I Was Holding on to You
by Loki67
Summary: Sequel to 'Just Let Them Try'. Sam has returned from the cage in a regressive state, and his brother is his only remaining link to humanity. Dean wants to care for Sam, but some want to come between them. When Sam is taken from him, the ransom is a crushing ultimatum for Dean, and he is forced to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life...Limp!Sam/Protective!Dean
1. Part I

**I Was Holding on to You**

**Part One**

"And when it was clear,

they'd park her in the middle of nowhere,

sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours...

_without saying a word."_

"Come on Sammy, try" Dean held the spoon out to his brother, who looked down at it with a puzzled expression. Frustrated at not knowing what it was Dean wanted him to do, he pushed the thing away and grunted childishly.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was stern this time and he flinched, bowing his head nervously allowing tuft-fulls of brown bangs to fall over his eyes, hiding his face from his brother. He whimpered at the scolding tone.

Remorsefully, Dean reached out a hand and gently brushed the bangs from his brother's face, tucking them behind his ears. He put his fingers underneath Sam's chin and gently tilted his head back up to regain eye contact, smiling gently to show him he wasn't_ really_ angry.

Sam's puppy-eyed gaze flickered nervously back and forth from Dean to the table, until his brother rested a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Sammy." He whispered hearteningly. "It's okay, I'm not mad." He waited for Sam's eyes to unfalteringly settle on his before repeating, "Not mad, see?" he pointed to his face and the accentuated grin, and massaged his shoulder encouragingly.

Sam's lips twitched at the corners and Dean hummed softly as he watched a flicker of a smile appear. But in the next moment it was gone.

_When's that smile gonna hit your eyes Sammy? _He thought sadly, considering for a moment how much he missed his brother's soulful smile, and the way his mossy green eyes lit up.

Taking up the spoon again, Dean held it up to show Sam.

"Spoon, Sammy. Watch" He slid the spoon in to the bowl, scooped up some of the soup and brought it up to his mouth.

"See?" he said, satisfied by his brother's intent curiosity, though he could tell he still didn't _quite_ get it.

"Sammy, you try." Dean nudged at Sam's fingers with the spoon until his palm splayed to grasp at it clumsily. Watching his brother's breath hitch nervously, Dean curled his fingers around Sam's and helped him to grip, before pushing the bowl to within easy reach, and guiding the spoon in to it, relenting a little to allow Sam upper control over the motion.

The spoon wavered a little as he scooped and raised it unsteadily. A few dollops of chicken soup sloshed down the side of the bowl and on to the table. Dean winced, hoping it wouldn't deter his brother from trying, and was genuinely surprised when Sam continued completely undaunted, bringing the spoon to his mouth, eyes fixed with determination.

Dean rested a supportive hand on the nape of Sam's neck and nodded to him encouragingly.

"Atta boy Sammy, open…" he demonstrated the action himself to make sure his brother knew what to do next and chuckled slightly at Sam's mimicking.

Slowly, and still allowing Sam to retain overall control, he guided the spoon in to his mouth and watched in satisfaction as his brother swallowed.

"That's awesome Sammy!" Dean exaggerated, fisting his hands in to an over-enthusiastic cheer, hoping that this might spark some reaction with his brother and he would understand that he did good, that Dean was pleased with him.

Sam's lips tugged in to another barely-there smile, and he reached out the spoon again to repeat what he'd just done, watching for Dean's reaction.

For another 20 minutes, they sat together at the kitchen table while Sam finished eating. Dean just continued to smile and nod encouragingly, ready with a napkin when necessary to catch or mop up any spills. He was pleased that as Sam continued to practice, the spills became less frequent and he could tell that his sibling was enjoying the newly found independence. _Typical Sam._ He thought, secretly happy that his brother's true nature hadn't been completely destroyed.

Sam finished eating and Dean removed the empty bowl. He took a moment to clean Sam up, watching his distant gaze as he dabbed at his chin with the napkin, removing the last traces of food.

"You did good Sammy." He keened, crouching down to look up at his brother, " You did real good. Now how about a smile kiddo?" Dean pointed to his own grin and gave Sam a double thumbs-up.

Sam looked at him in confusion, and Dean let out a gentle sigh. He reached up and touched his brother's face, his expression one full of compassion.

"Come on buddy, you should be proud! I am." He stroked his hand down sam's cheek, his smile widening as Sam nuzzled in to the touch and clutched at Dean's hand with both of his own, pressing it firmly to his face, drawing in the comfort.

Sam yawned and blinked sleepily.

"No no no Sammy, not yet. Let me get all this cleaned up properly and then we'll settle down on the couch ok? If you wanna fall asleep on me this early I want it to be infront of the telly." Dean bopped him gently on the nose with the napkin and stood up.

"Wanna come over there with me?" He pointed towards the kitchen counter where he intended to wash up the dinner items. There was a chair next to the sink that Sam liked to sit in and watch.

"mmmm" Sam nodded and mumbled "y..yye..ss….pl..s" To which Dean grinned, just like he did every single time he heard his brother's voice.

He helped Sam to his feet and guided him as he stumbled unsteadily towards the kitchen counter, settling him in to the soft seated chair, and pulling out the box from underneath it, placing it on the counter next to Sam.

The box contained things that Sam liked to look at and play with. Bobby had the idea after watching Sam sit staring blankly in to space for a high portion of the day, and decided that if they didn't at least _try_ to stimulate his mind, it would take him much longer to regain any of his abilities.

He and dean had put the box together for him one evening, as Sam sat watching with curiosity, and Dean had been delighted at his brother's reaction when they eventually presented him with it. He had immediately begun searching through the items, pulling things out and examining them. It was quickly apparent that Sam liked the noisier of the items, or the ones that had more intense texture. He liked to squeeze them in his hand repeatedly, absorbed by how they felt.

Sam sat in the chair, running a set of large metal keys through his fingers, squeezing them around each one individually, eyes lighting up each time he let go as he heard the soft clink of metal. He was suddenly pulled from his fixation by another sound. A gentle, rhythmical humming. Eyes familiar, he lifted his head and searched for the source of the noise. Realising that it was coming from his brother, he furrowed his brow intently, searching through the fog in his mind, trying to find something, anything.

And suddenly the memory flashed before his eyes. So vivid he could almost reach out and touch. Dean, sitting alongside him, hands ten-to-two at the wheel, bobbing his head and singing along ardently to a tune playing vaguely in the background. The image faltered after that split second, and then it was gone.

Sam tilted his head to the side, listening, and looked back down at the keys in his hand, continuing to run them through his fingers, he pursed his lips and quietly joined in with his brother's hummed rendition of 'smoke on the water'.

Dean froze.


	2. Part II

I Was Holding on to You

**Part II**

Dean picked up the towel and squeezed his hands dry, turning slowly to look at his brother. His heart thudded in his chest with joyful anticipation.

"Sammy?" he said gently, tossing the towel on to the drainer. He walked towards the place where his brother sat, still totally distracted by the object in his hand, innocently unaware that his previous actions had held any significance.

Crouching down beside Sam, Dean curled his hands around his brothers, and ducked his head until he caught his eye.

"Sammy?" he repeated. "You know that song? Huh? You remember it?"

Sam stared at him blankly and his breath began to hitch with panic. He wished desperately that he understood what Dean wanted from him, but he didn't. Too many words. Spoken too fast. He'd not been long relieved that the things he heard were beginning to hold some meaning, and not just an incomprehensible stream of jumbled sounds. _Now _though_, Now _ he felt like he should be able to do this, he should be able to make his brother happy, just like Dean did for him. Why was it so hard?

Dean saw the look of anguish in his brother's eyes, and how his breathing had become suddenly laboured. The last thing he wanted was to cause Sam any more unnecessary stress.

Deciding that for now at least, maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he gave his brother's hands a reassuring squeeze.

"S'okay little brother, we'll take it slow." He said with a smile.

That smile as always, told Sam much more than the words ever could anyway. And even when he could understand, Dean wouldn't always need to _**say**_. That simple, silent gesture telling him that everything was okay. That It didn't matter and they could try again.

Dean held the thought for the moment, and handed Sam another object from his box of tricks. A wooden egg timer. Chuckling softly as he watched his siblings face light up in amusement, he turned to put away the remaining dishes and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Uncapping it and taking a long swig, he looked over as Sam who began to yawn and blink sleepily, hands rubbing at his eyes with exhaustion.

"Come on Sammy, let's get settled." He sighed, walking over and picking up the box. He held it out, gesturing for Sam to put the objects away. Sam complied, humming his understanding. He put the last object carefully away, and then blinked tiredly up at Dean, head titled, eyes tracing his brother's face with nothing but adoration. It was overwhelming at most, but Dean never reciprocated any less devotion for Sam. They fit together.

Dean grinned and chuckled quietly, holding out a hand to Sam, who promptly gripped and pulled himself out of the chair, wobbling unsteadily. Dean slipped a supporting arm around his waist, allowing Sam to lean against him slightly.

After a few moments they were both slumped on the couch, Sam with his head rested in Dean's lap as always, his brother's fingers threading through his hair in a soothing motion.

Dean looked down at his brother's face, eyes staring straight ahead, slow blinks as the tug of sleep began to pull at him. It was then that he decided he needed to try again.

With one hand still stroking his hair and the other rubbing calming circles on his back, he cleared his throat softly…

After the first few notes, he grinned to himself as Sam's eyes shot open, and he turned his head slightly to focus on the sound.

That sound. Sam felt like he knew it. And then there it was again; flickers of a memory dancing in to his mind for a brief moment. Distorted. Almost unrecognisable, except…there was that sound again. He closed his eyes and forced himself to push through the haze, clinging to the sound of Dean's voice overhead. And suddenly he had found what it was he was looking for.

_Sam. Just- a- little- kid -Sam was lying on his bed sobbing after a nightmare. Dean, a little older but still just a kid himself, was lying next to him, one arm splayed across his shoulders and singing to him. Singing __**that**__ song. The song his mom used to sing._

As quickly as it had appeared, the image fizzled out. But Sam still listened to the gentle hum of Dean's voice as he continued.

And he could have listened to that voice all night, but in the next few moments his eyes were giving in and drifting closed as sleep pulled him further, further away.

Dean sighed as he watched his brother drift off.

"You must remember that one Sammy". He insisted. "It's Hey Jude, used to sing it to you when you were a little kid."

He rubbed his hand across his face almost dejectedly, not really expecting an answer from his now-slumbering brother.

So When Sam nuzzled in to his lap, and mumbled,

"Y..yeah De..an…I…r..member."

Dean just couldn't hide his elation, and grinned from ear to ear with pride, pulling his brother close into a tight hug.

"That's great Sammy…That's awesome"


	3. Part III

A few weeks passed and things started getting better for Sam. Although overall their struggles remained, Dean continued with his quest to reach his brother.

Sam began to recall small details of his life prior to the cage, and in addition, his understanding of speech was improving. So much so that he was slowly able to start re-learning words and gestures. Although his spoken communication remained quite limited, he was happier for being able to connect with his brother, and all the more for being able to understand some of things that Dean said to him.

But along with this came the frustration.

When he couldn't understand, and desperately wanted to.

When he couldn't tell Dean what was going on in his head, or ask the questions he needed the answers to, no matter how simple.

So in true, _Sam style_, his frustrations were represented through screaming tantrums and ever-increasing angry outbursts that became inadvertently violent.

Dean had been able to control these tantrums when Sam was a toddler. But trying to approach a fully grown man - who, if Dean was honest had a good few inches on him, _height wise! – _whilst dodging his precariously flailing arms and fists…well, that was just verging on suicidal.

Dean had resorted to tackling Sam from behind and physically restraining him during these episodes. This was primarily to avoid Sam doing himself (or Dean) an injury in the process. But he simple refused to put a single shackle on his brother, no matter how much persuading came from Bobby. The only restraint he would ever use was himself.

Today the tantrum had arisen because Sam was oh-_so_ desperate to go outside.

He had only been outside in to the fresh air on a handful of occasions, mainly due to Dean's concern that he was still far too unsteady on his feet and likely to trip or fall, probably taking Dean down with him. He wasn't sure for how long he could physically support his brother before it became too exhausting. So they normally ended up waiting until Bobby was around for extra reinforcement. Sam was _no_ lightweight.

Bobby was off helping out another hunter with some research and wouldn't be around for a few days.

So Dean had told Sam _no_.

But Sam had much, much more to say and much more reason for wanting to go outside than Dean could know at that moment, because Sam _couldn't_ tell him why. He couldn't tell him, and he knew that if he could, Dean would be happy. He would be proud.

_Because Sam had remembered something_.

Something he was bursting to share with his brother.

But Dean just said, _"No", _and shook his head.

And that's when Sam lost it. Lost it _**big time**_.

The screaming Dean could handle without too much exertion on his part. But the noise could have pushed him over the edge a number of times, and admittedly he had gotten angry with Sam on a few occasions because of it.

But when Dean tried to reason with Sam, or get close to comfort him, Sam would lash out. Not intending to injure his brother, but purely telling him that _no_, this time a hug wasn't going to make it all better. He was angry, and that was it.

He couldn't tell him because the words were tripping over themselves in his head, and he couldn't get them in the right order. He wasn't even sure he knew what the right order was. Like wearing an invisible gag, and it made him so angry!

He wasn't angry because Dean had said no. He was angry because he knew that Dean would say _yes _if he knew of Sam's ulterior motive. But Sam couldn't find the words to explain.

He lay on the couch pinned against Dean's chest. Dean's strong grip encircled his wrists and kept them pinned firmly behind his back. He sobbed and whimpered in frustration, and Dean rubbed a hand in circles on his chest soothingly, gently shushing and whispering nonsensically in to his ear.

"Sshh Sammy, come on now you gotta stop this." He murmured softly.

"nnnnn, nahhh. Uhn…le..g..go…le..go" Sam grunted and thrashed, trying to pull away. Sobbing hysterically.

"No baby brother, I'm not letting you go, not until you've calmed down." Dean said, tightening his grip as he felt Sam's muscle power increase a notch.

He began to kick his legs and buck his hips angrily, which to add to his distress, resulted in Dean hooking a leg around both of Sam's, immobilising them, and wrapping his free arm around his waist to pin him still.

Sam threw his head back on to Dean's shoulder and gritted his teeth, forcing out a desperate groan before allowing his body to fall limp in Dean's arms.

He didn't know what to do. He just knew he needed to make Dean understand.

So he did the only thing his jumbled mind could master, and began pitching out the words no matter what the order. He wasn't even certain he was saying them right, but he gave it his damnedest.

"D..ean…c..car…mmm…m..pala…see…mm..pala…ou…side…"

Dean remained stock still and rested his forehead against the back of Sam's neck. He could feel his brother's frustrated tremors as he forced the words out amidst hiccupping sobs.

"Sammy? You remember the impala?...huh?"

Dean relaxed his grip on his brother entirely, and rolled him so that he could see his face. His heart almost broke in two when he took in the tear tracked cheeks and swollen red eyes.

Sam glanced up at him nervously.

"mmmm" he nodded, and lifted an arm to gesture to the door.

"Sh..ow…show…m…me…mm..m'pala"

Dean closed his eyes, fully understanding now that all this could have been avoided if he'd just tried harder to listen.

"Is that what you wanted Sammy, to see the impala?" he asked softly.

Sam thought for a moment, and then nodded.

Dean smiled with delight and chuckled.

"What do you remember Sam, what made you think about the impala?" he asked, hoping that Sam would understand enough to answer.

With his brow furrowed, Sam concentrated very hard, harder than he felt he'd ever concentrated – so far anyway.

He licked his lips, closed them tight, and started to hum out a very familiar tune.

Dean's eyes sparkled and a grin that was so wide it could have split his face in two broadened on his lips as he listened and gazed down at his brother in his arms.

"Smoke on water" he said. " I used to play it while we were on the road. That's what made you remember?"

Sam nodded, and then pulled at Dean's shirt eagerly.

"What else buddy?" Dean curled his fingers around Sam's hand, gently stroking with his thumb, revelling in the moment.

"sss… ..s." Sam stuttered. "mmm..m'pala..st..stars"

Dean's eyes began to glisten with the threat of tears. But he blinked them away.

"Yeah, that's right Sammy" he nodded.

He knew that his brother was referring again to their time on the road, and in particular to times when they'd park the impala in the middle of nowhere, jump out to sit on the hood, and watch the stars.

They'd sit there for hours at a time, neither of them saying a word.

Sam had held on to this memory, kept it stored safely away. And it turns out it just needed a trigger… some small spark to bring it back to life.

And It would have offended all precedent if it hadn't been Dean who was the spark. It was always Dean, in one way or another.

Dean glanced out of the nearby window.

It was dark out, and the sky was clear.

He turned back to his brother, and grinned.

"Wanna go for a ride?"


	4. Part IV

**Part IV**

Dean pulled the impala out on to the road, the grin a permanent fixture on his face by this point.

He glanced over at Sam, who was slumped in the comfortingly familiar shotgun position, leaning against the window with his cheek pressed almost flat on the glass, staring up at the sky.

It was a warm evening and the breeze that swept through the open window on the driver's side was welcoming enough, but his leather jacket was stifling him.

He shrugged it off. And as he did, his gaze fell momentarily to the rear view mirror, and in that split second, he thought he saw something.

But what he thought he saw…

"_it couldn't be". _

He looked again. Tried to focus on the figure behind the wheel of the beat up brown pick up that had come seemingly out of nowhere.

Another street light flickered overhead. Eyes fixed on the mirror.

And this time, Dean was sure.

It wasn't his mind playing dirty tricks.

What it was he _thought_ he saw, _he_ _almost definitely did. _

"Shit".

When it came to contemplating their situation, and what it _could_ mean, Dean knew there wasn't really a choice. Not for him anyway.

Because amidst it all there was always that overwhelming possibility that Sam was in danger. - _Something which was highly probable given their constant run of bad luck. _

And for Dean that wasn't okay, not by a long shot.

And He pressed his foot imprudently to the floor. Pedal scraping on metal.

Sam had been watching his brother for the past few moments.

He had been watching when Dean's smile had faded. He thought it happened just after he'd looked in the mirror. But he couldn't be sure, not really. He knew that it should mean something, he just wasn't sure _what._

He watched the way his brother's gaze had fixated on the mirror again, then travelled back up to the road.

The smile that disappeared had been replaced by something much more sinister. And the sheer sight of it made Sam tremble.

Dean's eyes stared dead and cold at the road ahead, snarl etching at his lips.

And he would have remained that way until the truck was out of sight, had it not been for the whimper that came from the seat beside him.

Dean's gaze flickered up from the road and across to his brother, who was now curled up next to him on the seat with his face buried in his arms.

"Shit!" he whispered "Sammy, hey little brother, hey. It's okay. Here, look at me…Sam"

He reached across the seat and gently tugged at one of the arms covering Sam's face.

Sam glanced up nervously at Dean and let out another muffled sob.

It was a quiet, broken sound that made Dean's heart clench. But Dean smiled anyway, giving it his best effort to look calm and reassuring. But he knew Sam wasn't buyin'. _Damn kid always was as stubborn as they come. _He thought, smile flickering in to something more candid.

But Dean knew he needed to deal first. Before letting his defences down.

He gave Sam's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"Hold on there little brother, I gotcha okay?" he said, feeling Sam recoil behind his arms once again.

He glanced up in to the mirror one more time to be sure, and cursed when he realised the truck was nowhere in sight.

"Dammit" he thumped the wheel and slammed his foot on the brakes, emitting an endless stream of profanities as his baby skidded to an abrupt, messy halt on the side of the road.

Throwing open the door, he stepped out of the car and stared back along the road, listening intently.

Satisfied after a few moments that he could neither see nor hear _anything_, he hurried around to his brother's door, pulling it open and crouching down beside him.

"Sam, c'mere buddy. God you're shakin'…y'okay?" he held Sam's arms and looked up at him quizzically.

Sam ducked his head, soft brown bangs falling in to his eyes.

Dean sighed and pulled his brother in to a tight hug, rubbing his hand in circles on his back.

"I'm sorry Sam, I didn't mean to scare you like that. I'm sorry"

He felt a strong tremor wrack through Sam's body and gripped him tighter as he began to sob heartbreakingly in to the crook of his neck.

"Hey, hey, come on, sshh. It's alright, you're safe, I gotcha, I gotcha…I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, I swear."

He pulled back from Sam and looked in to his eyes, smiling comfortingly. He held up his phone and shook it in his hand. With the other, reached up and held Sam's face, gently brushing his thumb over his cheek.

"Just gonna call Bobby, okay? Stay put, I'll be right here."

He rose to his feet and closed the door quietly, before stepping a short distance from the car.

His fingers trembled as he dialled.

"Dean, You okay?"

"Hey Bobby, uh, no, actually, we got a problem…It's Dad"


	5. Part V

**Part V**

Just a short one folks, will update again later today.

Thank you so much for all of your reviews, please, please keep them coming :)

...

"So…one more time, what was it you _think_ you saw son?"

Bobby asked as he walked over to where Dean sat on the couch. Two small glasses clinked as he set them down on the table.

Sam was curled up in deep slumber next to his big brother, with his head in his lap. And this time Dean held on to him just a little tighter.

Waving off Bobby's offering of a large whisky, determined to keep his head clear, Dean huffed out a heavy sigh and shook his head exasperatedly.

"What the hell's the point if you're not gonna believe a damn thing I say to you…?" he spat angrily.

"Dean…"

" I'm _done _repeatin' myself Bobby…believe me, _don't believe me_, I really don't give a crap. But I gotta get Sam outta here, soon"

Bobby sank down on to a chair and eyed the younger hunter with confusion.

"I just don't understand one thing. If, like you keep insistin', it was your daddy, why in the hell d'you think he'd wanna hurt Sam? He's his kid…"

Dean's face contorted with an indignant smirk and he glared sharply up at Bobby.

"You didn't see his face the last time him and Sam butted heads…he had that same look on his face tonight…the things he said to Sam…_God,_ I'm tellin' ya Bobby, somethin' aint right about this. I mean…why tail us like that, Why not just knock on the door like a normal person…ain't exactly comforting"

He tilted his head and gazed down at his brother, running fingers through his hair, and softly brushing the pad of his thumb over his cheeks, tracing the tear tracks. He let his own head fall back on to the soft cushions, eyes rolling.

It was soothing not only for Sam.

Having his brother close like that made him feel like he was doing something right for once. Sam was safe, _for now_. And that was all that mattered, and the only thing in the world he cared about right now.

Sam held on to Dean just as tight, hands fisted in Dean's jeans, one arm wrapped securely around his leg.

Bobby watched them for a moment, and ran a rough hand over his chin dubiously. Dean's words played on his mind and as much as he wanted to believe them, he couldn't help but feel that the young hunter was bordering on unstable, a little paranoid perhaps.

And for their sakes he hoped that was all it was.

Because he knew that if Dean was right, this wasn't good. Not in the least.

The night drew in further and Bobby left the two boys to sleep in peace, taking himself off to bed shortly after Dean had passed out on him mid-conversation.

And Dean would torture himself over and over from this point on.

Because he hadn't meant to fall asleep…


	6. Part VI

**Part VI**

Dean shifted unconsciously a number of times that night. The couch was hard and his wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but he'd gotten used to it over the past few weeks so really it wasn't _that_ bad.

He felt a groggy sensation pull at him as he began to crawl towards wakefulness. His head felt like it was swimming. He thought it must be due to having slept the entire night with his neck crooked backwards over the pillows, near on hanging over the back of the couch. _That can't be good for you._

And for some reason he felt a strange numbness tingling just below his right shoulder. But it didn't bother him right now.

Right now he was preoccupied with a different feeling. A more precise numbness that ribbed its way to his gut.

And he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But it felt...empty.

He fought his way through the daze and forced his eyes open, blinking them unaccustomedly under the glare of daylight from the window. Stretching his arms above his head, he glanced over at the clock on the mantel.

"11:30…_what the_?..."

he'd _never_ slept in that long in his life. Even in a proper bed with a mattress… and a duvet. How in the hell had that happened?

And there was that feeling again. Only much more pronounced this time around.

Something was definitely not right. Almost like something was missing.

He glanced down.

And his heart caught in his mouth when his gaze fell to his empty lap.

Glanced to the side. Nothing, no one.

And he cursed himself for taking this long to notice.

"Shit…SAM? SAMMY?SAM!"

He shot up to his feet, wishing he'd given himself a moment to adjust as he immediately flopped back unsteadily against the arm of the couch.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

He hadn't touched a drop last night, yet felt totally wasted. His legs just wouldn't move the way he wanted them to and his entire body seemed to be ignoring him right now.

"Dammit…_come on_…" he muttered angrily, pulling himself away from his support and stumbling towards the kitchen, hoping to god that he'd find Sam with Bobby or _just Sam_ right now would be fantastic.

"Gonna kick that kids ass in to next week when I get 'a hold of him" Hemumbled to himself. Words slurring a little.

But there was an overwhelming feeling right in the pit of his stomach, telling him that this was just way too much of a coincidence.

Sam hadn't left his side since he came back, and after last night…

Furiously shaking the thought away, he edged further towards the kitchen, gripping at the wall for support.

And it was then he heard it. A sound he thought he'd never hear again. That oh-so familiar voice. Gruff and exhausted. And coming from the kitchen.

"_**Dad!"**_

He growled low in his throat, and disobedient as his body was determined to be, he hastened towards the voice.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes fell to the kitchen table, and more specifically to the figure sitting hunched over it, clutching nervously at a steaming mug of coffee.

The figure glanced up cautiously, familiar eyes meeting once again as the younger man entered the room.

And he spoke to Dean.

"Hello Son."

….

John smiled warmly up at Dean, who at that moment could do little more than glare back at the man who had near enough run him and his brother off the road the previous night.

"Hello son?..._hello son?" _he spat furiously. "Dad…why are you?... What?...I don't understand. _How_ are you here?..._**and**_ _**where's Sam**_?"

"Calm down boy…"

Amid the confused, emotional turbulence, Dean had neglected to realise that Bobby was sat alongside his father at the table.

_Just like old times huh?_

He swallowed the bitter retort and returned his gaze to his father, who was staring tensely down in to his coffee.

"Where…is…my brother?" Dean demanded, his tone remarkably petulant, not that he could have cared less at that moment.

"Dean…listen to me." John looked up, his heavy, solemn eyes met Dean's dangerous ones, and he looked away momentarily, as if contemplating what to say.

Dean leaned towards them and slammed his fist down hard, shaking the coffee mugs, causing both of the older hunters to jump.

His face twisted into a furious scowl and he glared fastidiously at his father across the table.

John leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at Dean, sighing hesitantly.

"Sam's gone Dean. I've taken him away from here. Away from _you._ I'm sorry son. But this is for the best, for both if you."

Dean's stomach twisted in to a sharp knot, and the convulsions came before he had a chance to control them. He wasn't sure he knew how to control them, because truth be told, his father had just ripped his heart and soul clean from his chest.

"W..what?" he whispered. "Dad…"

"You're not going to change my mind about this son. Sam's fine. He's okay...right now you just need to rest, sleep it off…"

"Sleep what off…?" Dean's bemused expression abated as the realisation set in. "No…you didn't…"

John grimaced, hadn't meant to let than one slip…but then Dean would have worked it out for himself before long anyway. How else did he think John had managed to nab Sam from his arms without getting his ass well and truly kicked?

"I had to son, it was the only way I could…"

"Kidnap my brother?..,you drugged me so that you could kidnap my brother?" Dean choked, the threat of tears evident with every word.

John looked up.

"I didn't kidnap him Dean. He's _my son_."

Dean shook his head indifferently, trying desperately to blink away the impending tears.

"You took him from me" he whispered.

John sighed and rose slowly from his seat, unsure as to whether or not comforting his oldest was the wisest move given his unpredictable state. He set down his coffee cup, and walked towards Dean, paying little heed to the way he tensed and squared, eyeing the approach defensively.

"Dean, I know this is hard for you to understand right now, but trust me son, this is for the best. The relationship you two have is unhealthy, for both of you…"

"What the fuck would you know…Dad, you've been gone for how long? And suddenly your back playing the concerned father…nah, I'm not buyin'. You never cared about Sam before, why the hell now?"

"You're upset, son, I understand. You should rest, we'll talk later…"

"We'll talk now dammit. Tell me what you've done with my brother?"

"I will, when I think you're ready. But I don't think that'll be for some time Dean, you could do with focusing on other things for a while. Bobby says you've quit huntin' since Sam…"

"Fuck the goddam hunt…where is he? Where's my brother?" Dean lunged at his father, pinning him flat against the wall, hands tightening in a vice around his throat.

But the effect of the drug was still surprisingly overpowering, and his grip faltered weakly, allowing John to struggle free.

Without preamble, John grabbed his son and spun him around, forcing him to the ground. With one knee firmly in the crook of his back holding him immobile, he reached to his jacket pocket for the cuffs he'd stashed in anticipation that his oldest wouldn't go down without a fight.

"You son-of-a…get the fuck off me…get off me…_no!"_ Dean gasped as he felt the metal encircle his wrists and snap tightly shut.

He struggled and spat viciously as John and Bobby hauled him to his feet, proceeding to drag him across the house towards the spare room.

They wrestled him on to the bed, and made a quick exit, shutting and locking the door behind them.

Dean rolled from the bed and on to his knees, struggling weakly in the cuffs.

He couldn't fight, he couldn't even stand. He was weak, useless. They had taken away the only thing in the world that mattered to him, and there wasn't anything he could do. Even if he could get himself out of this, where the hell would he even start looking?

He hung his head dejectedly, and the tears that he had kept vehemently at bay for the past ten minutes began to spill over.

He crawled awkwardly on his knees towards the locked door, and slumped against it, pressing his forehead to the wooden frame, and pleaded with his father.

"Dad…dad, please…please. Don't keep him from me. Please, bring him back…Don't do this."

***Warning: Spoiler; and clarification: **_**Just to clarify, incase this has upset anyone :) Bobby is not a villain in this fic. He has been deceived in to helping John and genuinely thinks he is doing his best by the boys. Even if this may have not totally come across in part 6. Really, how can I write Bobby as being anything other than awesome?**_


	7. Part VII

**Part VII**

John scrubbed his hand roughly across his face and hunched over the table. Whisky glass in hand, he swirled it once, slowly, and stared across the table into nothingness. Then for the countless time in the last 30 minutes, he looked over towards the locked room where Dean was currently imprisoned and now -_thanks to him_- once again drugged to the absolute gills.

He had tried over and over to justify what he was doing, telling himself that ultimately this _was_ for best. That he was _doing Dean a favour_ by removing Sam from the equation. Thing is, no matter what he called it, the truth remained that it was just an outright lie.

And Bobby? Well, at least Bobby was still privileged with ignorance, believing undoubtedly that John's intentions were fraught with nothing but love for his boys, and a desire to help them through a desperate situation. I mean, why would he think anything otherwise? Not as if he had any reason to doubt John, or think for a minute that he might _actually_ have an ulterior motive.

He couldn't deny the guilt, and he couldn't stop it from eating away at him every second that he sat in that house, every time he stuck the needle in Dean's arm or thought about checking in on Sam –not that it would be a smart move right now, _not part of the deal_ -. Shit, every time Bobby so much as bought him a cup of coffee he felt his stomach clench.

But it was okay, because soon he'd have what it was he'd been promised. Soon he could genuinely and whole heartedly work at putting his family back together. He just had to sacrifice this one thing for a little longer and then it would all be okay. It would. _He was sure of it._

He should really go check on Dean; he'd been quiet for a while now. Only stopped groaning a couple hours ago when the drugs kicked in.

He didn't want Dean completely out of it; he'd need to start weaning him off it sooner or later. So he'd just given him enough to make him dopy, enough so that he couldn't move. Unfortunately for Dean, that meant he could still _think._ And think was all he did every minute of the damn day that he lay immobilised on that bed. Thinking about nothing but his brother, and about how much he missed him and wanted him back with him where he belonged, and how he couldn't do a damn thing about it other than lie there.

John glanced at his watch. _2am. Time to up the 'meds' before he gets too lucid_. He thought, scraping his chair back from the table and standing. With a deep sigh, he necked the remaining whisky and slid the glass on to the kitchen counter, then rummaged in the drawer for the syringe.

He filled a tall glass with water, and made his way over to the locked room, pausing just outside to listen in closely.

There was no movement from inside. Normally, a little too much _nothing _where Dean was concerned could have meant just about anything. And nothing particularly good. Normally the silence wouldn't have filled him with confidence. But as it was, this time silence was what he had hoped to hear.

The problem was, if John was being really and truthfully honest –of which he wasn't much of late – Dean was far too much like him than he cared to imagine, and believed himself to be just as damn infallible, annoyingly so_, especially_ when it came to Sam. So much so that drugging him to the eyeballs was the only way to get any sort of pliancy. And he had to damn well _hope_ that Dean was still well and truly doped if he had any aspiration at all of getting back out in one piece.

Satisfied that he could hear nothing other than the distant sound of Dean's breathing, he pulled the brass bolt across and turned the key in the lock, opening the door slowly to get a look inside before going in.

Dean was still. Completely motionless on the bed, no movement except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Face turned towards the wall, arms still well and truly trapped in the cuffs behind his back.

_That must be uncomfortable_. John thought remorsefully_. I should get him outta those, if only I could trust him not to go all combative on my ass._

John edged closer, and stood almost at the foot of the bed, watching as his son's chest rose and fell in an uneven pattern. A clear sign that he wasn't sleeping, and that he just didn't want to look at John.

"Dean?" he said softly, and sat down on the side of the bed at Dean's waist.

No response. Just a change in his breathing signalled that he had heard his father.

He tried again.

"Dean…come on son, look at me." He leaned across and cupped Dean's face gently in his hand, turning his head to face him.

Dean moved with the gesture and looked hesitantly up at his dad through dazed, tear filled eyes. Red and swollen from hours of torturing sobs. His face was contorted with complete and utter dejection and it made John's heart clench in his chest. _As well it should._ He reprimanded himself bitterly, but gave his son a flicker of a smile anyway.

He tugged Dean's left sleeve up past his shoulder and began to fill the syringe from the small vial.

Dean watched in despair and began to squirm weakly in his restraints. Knowing really that it was of no use.

"Please…dad…no more." He mumbled through a whispered sob. "h…hurts."

John sighed, watching as Dean wriggled uncomfortably in the metal cuffs.

"I know buddy. It's not for much longer I swear. I'll getcha outta these things soon."

"Take em' off…please?"

"Not right now son, I wanna be sure you're not gonna try 'n kill me before I do that."

"n..not gonna f..fight you" he promised. "you're the only who knows…where Sam is."

John smiled gently.

"Yeah, and just how you plannin'on extractin' that information from me?"

Dean groaned and let out a desperate sob as he continued to plead with his father.

"Please dad…take me to him, bring him here…whatever just…please, please let me see him?"

"Not yet kiddo, I'm sorry. I know this is hurtin' you and I didn't want that, not for a minute. You gotta believe me son."

"I don't believe a d..damn thing you say…a..anymore." Dean sobbed heartbreakingly and turned his face away.

"I know you don't trust me Dean, but…"

"Just…give me something, tell me where he is…who's lookin after him…anything, please?"

John shook his head solemnly.

"I just can't do that Dean. It's not…I just can't. I'm sorry."

"Dad…please, you don't understand what you're doing. You think this is for the best but…Sam needs me…dad, he needs _me_." He looked up at his father imploringly.

"I was the only thing he held on to after all those years in the pit. After all that torture It was my name he was babbling when we found him…he needs to be with me."

"Dean…you can't do this, I won't let you…"

"Why not? I promise dad, I won't mess up. I'll do a good job, just…please…_let me have Sam_."

"Stop it now Dean, you gotta calm down. Come on, lie still."

Dean leaned his head back on to the pillows and sobbed, gritting his teeth with frustration as the needle scraped sharply across his skin and sank in. His eyes rolled, eyelids flickering. Unconsciousness was tugging him progressively deeper, but he was fighting. He didn't want this. He couldn't believe his dad was doing this to him.

"I fucking _hate _you." He whispered venomously as the world sank in to darkness. And everything went black.

John cringed hurtfully at the words, and withdrew slowly from the bed. Dean's breathing had begun to even out. He'd upped the dosage this time, anything to help his son get some respite. Or so he told himself.

He watched him for a moment before walking silently out of the room. And locking the door.

Turning to head back to the kitchen, John froze, dead in his tracks.

An ominous figure loomed in the shadows. He didn't need to guess. He already knew. Truthfully he'd been expecting it. So why it came as such a shock when it stepped forward in to the light, revealing itself, John wasn't entirely sure.

A malicious grin etched on to its face, it moved towards John, opening it's arms up in mock-greeting.

"John!" it spoke, creepy and tainted with cheerful acrimony.

John scowled, and stepped back from the unwelcome approach, habitually reaching for his hunting knife. Knowing there was little point, only - _he told himself_- that it gave him control of the situation. And again, call it what you want, doesn't make it the truth. He snarled at the looming figure and replied with sheer animosity,

"_Crowley_…"

The demon grinned.

"We need to talk, Winchester, _about our little deal_…"


	8. Part VIII

**Part VIII**

John kept his hand firmly gripped around the handle of his hunting knife, and locked eyes with the Demon, who smirked at the evidently stoic expression on the hunters face. He moved one step closer, almost provocatively, bating the older man in to challenging him.

"What? No cuppa tea?...now John, you know there's nothin' I like more than a nice cuppa tea with my favourite Winchester."

"Go to hell." John snarled.

"That hurts. It really does. Guess I'll skip straight to it then. I came here, to discuss your boy…"

"I kept my word. I gave you Sam. Now, you mind telling me exactly what it is you…"

"Oh, no no no, John, not _Sam_. It's _Dean_ I'm here to discuss. You see, you've been holding up here now for what? A week? And so far I see very little sign of that kid having _any_ desire to help you with our little…_task_…I mean, would _you_ wanna help you John? After what you did to him? Taking Sam away was a very risky move, even for you…but… handin' him over to a _Demon_ for safe keeping? That's a brand new low am I right? I bet Dean's already vying for your blood"

John's gaze fell to the floor and he shifted nervously.

"Ohh, I see. Dean doesn't know. What's up John, not got the balls? Funny that…cos you seemed to have hold of em' last week when you handed Sam over…or is it just the part about admitting all this to Dean you're struggling with? Perhaps I can help you out there…"

Crowley moved towards the locked door, but John raised an arm to stop him.

"No. Don't. I'll tell him, I will. Just not today. He's missin' his brother…"

Crowley turned on a mocking pout.

"bless…hang on I'll just fetch my violin…I don't _care_ very much for wallowing… Never did as it happens…and especially not when it's affecting the performance of my…employees. _**Sort it John**_, or I will. You've got a day."

John nodded, sighing remorsefully before tempting the question. Scared to death of the answer it would bring.

"Is…is Sam okay?"

Crowley nodded musingly and took a few steps towards the kitchen, brushing his finger across the frame of a large picture hanging by his head. He held his hand up towards John, revealing the dust track left behind and grimaced, totally avoiding a verbal response to the question. For now, anything to keep the old hunter on edge for just a little longer satisfied him immensely.

"tutt-tutt. Not exactly a domestic goddess is he old Singer? Never heard of a duster?"

"Crowley!…_**Sam**_, how is he?"

"I don't know…you Winchesters. One minute you're sacrificing your lives to save each other, the next, daddy dearest is handing his youngest over to a Demon…well, _King of Hell_…actually, if we wanna be precise."

"Answer me dammit." John growled, anger hitching up his voice as he glared viciously over at Crowley's derisive, evil form, still hovering by the kitchen.

Crowley chuckled with bemusement and propped himself against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sam? You ask. Oh… he's just _dandy_…havin' a whale of a time infact…made some new friends too by all accounts. And they just _love_ him, been a while since they've had something to play with."

John's face contorted with fury, and his snarl deepened.

"You evil son-of-a…"

"Careful Johnny" Crowley interrupted, eyes narrowing coldly as he stood upright, pulling away from the wall. He took a few quick, short steps over towards John until he was almost nose to nose with the hunter. Well, nose to chin, _if we want to be precise. _

"You wouldn't want me backing out of our little…contract? Is that what we're callin it?"

"You can't…we agreed…" John gaped, eyes wide with fear.

"Hello?...Demon!" Crowley mocked, raising his hands in gesture to himself. "Look Winchester. Just…hold up your end, do what I want, and I 'll hold up mine…oh and er, John? mind the way you speak to me in future…get's me all uptight. And trust me, you _really_ don'twant that."

"Y'know…Dean's gonna rip you apart when this is all over…"

And Crowley's implied smirk confirmed to John his own worst nightmare.

"Sorry is that …before…or _after_ he slices _you _open? Cos my _**God**_ Winchester, even _I'd_ be slightly concerned if I were you. No, I would most definitely _not_ like to be _you_ when Dean finds out what you've really done with his brother…handin' him over to a Demon…just like that?. Tutt-tutt Johnny."

" You gave me no choice…"

" Oh you _had_ a choice John. Let's not kid ourselves. You didn't have to accept my offer…but you did. And that means _Sam-_ belongs- to- _me_…temporarily of course. To be honest, I don't have much time for the little retard...he's a bit of an…_inconvenience_. But then you'd know all about that wouldn't you John…eh? Little Sammy gettin' his own way with Dean _all time_? Cos Dean's _always_ cared about him just a little bit more than he has you, hasn't he?..."

"…and maybe, if he cares too much about Sam…well, who'll be your good little soldier boy then?"

John was still listening, albeit deceptively so as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, staring in to the empty space, trying to numb the pounding to his heart with _every- single- fucking- word_.

_Demon's lie_. He knew that. But _sometimes,_ they tell the truth.

The sudden and unexpected silence made him look up.

Crowley was gone.

He glanced around cautiously, wanting to be absolutely sure.

_Nothing. _

Satisfied that he was alone once again, he grabbed the half empty bottle of whisky, and started towards the stairs, fully intent on drinking himself in to a guilty stupor. Dean would be out cold until late morning, he'd be functional again by then, and hopefully be able to muster the courage to tell his son exactly what it was he'd done…and why.

He was sure Dean would understand, once John told him. Explained to him _why_ he'd done it. He knew he would. He'd tell him that once it was over, Crowley had promised to return Sam. Dean would understand. _Right?_

But as he turned to head up the stairs, he was inexplicably knocked off balance when a large, angry fist connected hard with his face, catching him square on the jaw.

He stumbled a little, but didn't fall down, and looked up at his attacker, half expecting to see Dean glaring back at him.

"B…Bobby?" he spluttered. "What the hell?..."

Bobby glowered furiously at the other hunter, and lunged towards him, hands gripping at his throat as he pinned him angrily to the wall.

"What have you done? What _**in the hell**_ have you done John?...yeah you bastard, I heard every word…"

"Bobby…" John choked, pushing at the older man, hoping that he would recoil enough to let him explain.

"Bobby…I had to…you don't understand…it's Mary…"

Bobby's expression altered, and his iron grip subsided momentarily, allowing the man to catch his breath.

John sucked in at the air greedily and repeated,

"It's Mary…Bobby, he promised me Mary."

...

* Hi all, thanks so much for your reviews and messages. I hope you are enjoying it so far. I think ive got Crowley down in this chapter, I could almost hear him speaking as I was writing :) Try and imagine a cockney British accent while you read it should help lol. x


	9. Part IX

**Part IX**

_**Just a short little chapter for those wondering what on earth is happening to Sammy while Dean is being held captive by John. **_

Meanwhile…

Sam lay trembling, freezing with cold and miserable on the too-small broken cot, amid the dank and dust of the tiny, barred cell.

It had been a while since they'd 'checked' in on him. The last time was probably hours ago, not that Sam knew any different, only that when the keys rattled in the lock it meant bad things were about to happen. Things he couldn't really contemplate, only that they hurt him, physically and emotionally, and there was no one there for him to cling to afterwards. No one to hold him and whisper reassurances. _No Dean._ _Ever again._ The Demon's word's played on a constant loop in his mind.

_No Dean. Not Coming. Ever again._

And he just lay there, shivering on the filthy mattress, clothes torn and sodden with water and dirt. Miserable, dejected and isolated from any source of comfort. Completely alone.

Earlier that evening…

Just before the Demon had left the last time, after the torture and the beatings were over, he'd grabbed a fistful of Sam's long hair and forced his head back on to mattress, laughing as Sam whimpered and struggled meagrely. He'd brought his mouth close to Sam's ear and growled tormentingly

"Wanna know why you're here huh? Demon boy? Wanna know why big brother aint here to protect you? You remember _Dean_, right retard?"

Upon hearing thatname, Sam searched the Demon's face, eyes tear filled and swollen from the sting of pain surging through his scalp as the grip on his hair tightened, and the hand fisting there twisted cruelly, pulling a sharp cry of pain from his lips.

"D…Dn..Dean?" Sam mumbled softly.

"Yeah that's right…_Dean_…Dean's the one who did this to you. He put you here, gave you to us to play with…Dean's _not_ coming to get you. He's _not coming_, _ever again_, understand? You're _ours _now you little shit. Just you remember that"

The Demon uncoiled his fingers from Sam's wavy mop, giving a few callous tugs before completely relinquishing his hold, chuckling as Sam flinched under each one. He slapped his face twice maliciously, and withdrew from the bed, allowing Sam to twist fretfully away from the cruel, painful source and on to his side.

The Demon paused in the doorway of the cell, and grinned to himself, staring up through the bars at the broken window.

"Gonna be a cold one …shame you're all wet n'all. If you're good later and don't cry like a baby again I might let you have a blanket tonight"

Sam heard the key clink in the lock, and listened as the footsteps faded in to the distance. Another loud slam, and he was alone again, in the dark.

He curled his body tightly in on itself, every part of him feeling the tremor of the shivers that wracked him mercilessly.

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and he was almost too tired for sobbing. The exhaustion was too much, but he couldn't fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried. _He was just so cold. _

He pulled his arms tighter around himself and whimpered sofly.

"Dean…Dn…I'm h…here, Dn…g…get m..me".


	10. Part X

**Part X**

_**Again, just a short chapter, but a chapter none-the-less. Thanks so much for all of your reviews and comments, they mean a lot! :)**_

_**...**_

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You sold out your boy…your own flesh and blood…for a deal you made with some ass-butt Demon? What the hell's the matter with you John? That is you in there isn't it?"

"I can't…explain it Bobby, I just…he made me the offer. I couldn't turn it down…I'll have my wife back, the boys'll have their mother…"

"Don't you try'n' justify this bull crap to me…I weren't born yesterday. You didn't do this for those boys, you did this for _you._ Only a fool would see it any other way."

Bobby rose from his chair, shotgun gripped firmly in his hand, and moved to stand in front of the younger hunter.

"And it might've escaped your notice Winchester…but I ain't no goddamn fool!...now tell me why I shouldn't blast you full 'o buckshot right here and now."

John sighed and sat forward in his chair, raising his arms indifferently.

"I don't know what to tell you Bobby…I could tell you I wasn't thinking straight…but honestly, it'd be a lie…I knew what I was doing. I was getting Mary back. And yeah, maybe I _was _being selfish, maybe I was doing this for me, but I had my fair share of misfortune, I guess I just felt it was my turn to win for once".

"_**God**_ you sound like a petulant teenager!…can you hear yourself John? Those boys have sacrificed _everything_ for you…They've been to hell and back…_LITERALLY_! And _this _is how you repay them? this is how you treat your own children?…tell me John, _**if**_Crowley holds up his end of the bargain…which I sincerely doubt… what's Mary gonna think when she finds out what you've done? …you thought about _that? Huh genius_?"

"Whatever she thinks of me Bobby…she'll be here, she'll be alive, breathing. "

"Yeah, at Sam's expense…Sure, that'll make her feel just great. I'm tellin you John…Mary will_ not_ forgive you for this."

"I'll take my chances." John retorted, and stood from his own chair, towering above the older hunter, not meaning to appear quite so intimidating but appreciating the small victory none-the-less. He walked towards the locked room where Dean remained in his drugged stupor.

The key was mid-turn in the lock when he heard the familiar sound of a shotgun being cocked, and froze instantly.

"Don't make me use this on you John…I don't want to but _damn it I will_ if you take one more step towards that boy."

John turned to face Bobby, narrowing his eyes in contemplation.

"You're not gonna shoot me Bobby." He stated credibly. "If you were gonna do that you would've done it already. I'm goin to fetch my son, and then we're leaving."

"Yeah? And goin' where exactly? You can't just drive 'round the states with Dean in the trunk until Crowley decides whether or not to honour your deal. Be realistic John! You wanna leave… be my guest. If I'm honest I can't _**stand**_ to look atcha, but you leave Dean here. And that aint no _question _neither. I'll get him right. But first…you'd better tell me where that big shot Demon's keepin Sam."

John shook his head and looked down at his hands.

"I can't do that Bobby."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because…" he paused, reluctantly, knowing that his words would definitely make everything ten times worse.

Bobby recoiled, a look of sheer disbelief on his face.

"ah Shit!" he said, reading fully and comprehensibly between the lines of John's silence. "_You_ don't know where he is, _do you_?"

John's lack of response spoke entirely for itself.


	11. Part XI

**Part XI**

The room, and everything in it was swimming.

Dean closed his eyes, hoping that after a moment or two the grogginess would subside and he would be able to see straight.

It was wishful thinking. John had pumped him with enough sedative to keep him completely at his mercy until he returned with the next dose, and he knew he wouldn't be letting him up any time soon.

No, John was alwaysbang- on time. Sticking the syringe in _just before_ Dean became coherent enough to fully protest.

As it was, this time his body was completely unresponsive. No matter how hard he tried to will his limbs to obey, any sort of movement was proving impossible. It took all the strength he could muster just to open his eyes, and even blinking was a _real problem_ right now. His eyelids felt laden with lead and he worried if he kept them closed for too long, he'd fall under again.

If that happened he'd forego his chance to try -once again- and reason with his father. Worst case scenario he'd damn well _beg_ if he had to. Not that he neglected this particular avenue during the recent frequent -but fleeting- visits John paid him throughout the day. But his pleas seemed to be falling on increasingly deaf ears. His dad was nothing if not totally stubborn, and this time the boys were the ones paying a hefty price as a result. Not that Dean was aware of just _how_ dearly his brother was paying at that very moment.

Dean had thought about Sam. He'd thought about him, and nothing else. Thought about where he could be, hoped that whoever had him was looking after him. He'd asked his dad, begged and pleaded with him to give him some diminutive detail about how he was, but John consistently avoided his questioning, drugging him before he got too upset at the refusal of information about his brother. John knew it was cruel to deny Dean some peace of mind, but honestly what could he tell his son that wasn't an outright lie. Sam wasn't okay, he wasn't being looked after. He was being tortured, abused. And it was all down to him. How could he tell Dean _that_?

Ultimately that left Dean with little option but to try and reassure himself, or go crazy with not-knowing.

_Dad loves Sammy. _He thought. _ He'd have made sure that wherever he is he's being treated good. Right? _

Surely that was the least John could do after snatching him away like that, not even giving Dean a chance to say goodbye.

_Because why, on God's green earth, would Dean think for a single moment that their father had handed Sammy over to a Demon?_

He blinked, slow and heavy, and waited.

…

He wasn't really sure how much time lapsed. But amid the heavy blinks and swirling vision he was sure he'd been laying there for hours. His arms were numb and his wrists throbbed in the cuffs. He tried once again to shift his weight from them, failing miserably. The ache was becoming too unbearable.

He thought about calling for his dad. He'd cried out to him desperately numerous times over the past week, begging him to take off the restraints. But his cries had gone unanswered.

He lay motionless, the pain increasingly intense and overwhelming, until he could do nothing but sob.

This is what he'd been reduced to, crying like a baby and unable to do _anything_ to help himself or his brother. He was pathetic, useless, a waste of space. John had seen to that.

Over and over he punished, tortured himself for falling asleep that night.

He'd tried to call out another name over the duration of the last few days. The name of someone he knew would come, _eventually_. It was admittedly a last resort after hoping and praying for days that his dad would see sense and let him up. Free him, and give him back his brother. But he was despairing now. He missed Sam so much it physically hurt. And he needed to get out of there, out of the clutches of his father and find his broken sibling.

So he tried again, and this time sobbed out the name so heartbreakingly, that the recipient of the plea felt the tremors where he stood, with alarm.

This time Dean called out the name, praying that he'd answer.

"Cas…p…please Cas, please…help me"

And this time he heard the familiar rustle of wings. And it was the most amazing sound ever.


	12. A Quick Update!

A Quick Update Before I Continue

Firstly, thank you so so much to everyone who has left a review, I have received some great feedback about this fic and I am loving writing it! I am staying up absurdly late tonight to work on the next two chapters and I reeeaaalllly hope you enjoy those too. Cas is back! Yay! and there is also more help on the way for Dean and Sammy. Watch this space…

Secondly, apologies to everyone who thought this was another chapter update lol :p

Loki


	13. Part XII

**Part XII**

"Dean?"

Castiel turned his gaze stiffly towards the whimpering form on the bed, remaining for a moment in the exact spot he had appeared just seconds before.

His stoic mask shattered almost instantly as he walked anxiously towards his friend.

"Dean…are you alright?" he asked

Dean's eyes wandered absently towards the familiar voice in the room, head still swimming and struggling to focus on the welcome figure looming over the bed, complete with trench coat.

"Cas?..." Dean mumbled groggily. "you came"

"Of course I came. You sounded…different. "

"Please…please help me…you gotta get me outta here…I.I gotta find ss..Sam"

"I don't understand. Why isn't Sam here with you?"

"My d..da…John, he took him away…" his voice broke in to a sob at the admission, "…wont tell me where…aahh…Cas please… get these offa me?"

Dean sobbed with pain and frustration, trying desperately to arch his back away from his throbbing wrists.

"John…he did this to you? This was all by his hand?" The angel's eyes narrowed with blatant fury.

Dean nodded, lips quivering. He looked back at Castiel through red, tear swollen eyes. And the angel wasn't prepared for the rush of emotion that overwhelmed him as he stared back into them. He'd never seen Dean like this before. His usual passiveness had been completely broken by grief. And it was nothing short of heart breaking. _Even for an angel like himself. _

"Where is he?...Where is John?"

"He's…out there, nnngh, Cas please…the cuffs, take em off…hurts" he cried out painfully.

Castiel immediately raised his arm, fingers and palm splayed above Dean's tortured form. A gentle breeze swept through the room and then a soft 'clink' of metal.

Dean let out a heavy, relieved sigh as the angel reached down, and pressed two fingers gently to his forehead, melting away the pain and the daze as a second breeze drifted past them.

"Better?" Castiel asked curiously, helping him to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Dean rubbed at his wrists, not entirely convinced why he was doing so, because Castiel had removed that discomfort too. Perhaps Just _something_ to distract his hands? whilst he contemplated how he might use them to pound the crap out of his father.

"Why has he taken Sam?" Castiel asked, perching next to Dean on the bed and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was an odd gesture coming from Cas, but comforting all the same, even if it did provoke a slight sideways glance and an eyebrow raise from Dean.

Besides, after seeing how stricken with grief the young hunter was over the separation from his sibling, Castiel was more in touch with his humanity now than ever before, and something innate inside him told him that Dean needed the small offering of comfort.

And Dean was grateful. More than grateful. Because where else would find it right now? After being betrayed so hurtfully by the people who were supposed to love him. By the _one_ person he'd followed faithfully all his life, and goddamn _chosen_ over his brother all those years ago.

The only real place he found true comfort; and who in return sought comfort soley from him, was being kept from him cruelly. And he would never forgive his father for that. _Never_. Or Bobby for that matter.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"He said it was because we're 'unhealthy' for each other." He snorted "Like Sam had a choice _other _than to lean on me, state he's in at the moment…I don't know Cas…it's like they can't understand why I'd _want _to look after my brother. Like he should be a burden I don't want to carry…they just don't get it…Sam's all I got, I'd do anything for that kid. I _want_ to take care of him. He's not a burden to me"

"I know that Dean. And I don't want you to worry because… I'll help…I'll help you get Sam back."

Dean's lips flickered with the faintest hint of a smile. The first he'd managed since Sam was taken.

"You will?"

"Like you even have to ask Dean. Ofcourse I'll help. Sam is your brother, but he's also my friend, as are you."

Dean's smile broadened slightly and he felt a slight wave of relief wash over him at the angel's genuineness.

But the moment was short-lived as they heard a key turning slowly in the lock.

Both men rose simultaneously to their feet, their eyes fixed in identical glares on the door.

Every fibre of Dean's being tensed with pure unadulterated hatred, burning up inside him, ready to erupt.

He clenched his fists by his side, gritted his teeth and perfected his death stare, and waited for his father to enter the room.

**…..**

_***Okay, so Dean is about to find out what John has really done with Sammy. Uh-oh…**_


	14. Part XIII

**Part XIII**

As the door swung open, Dean's eyes fell to the scene that had been unfolding outside moments before.

Bobby holding the shotgun with both barrels aimed in a steadfast grip at his father, who stopped frozen in his tracks upon entering the room, half mindful of the cocked gun pointing at the back of his head, but more openly aware of the fact that his oldest had escaped his restraints, and now stood -very much coherent- in the middle of the room.

Dean's stone cold glare was lingering on murderous…almost demonic, and for a second John contemplated this, dismissing it in almost the same instance. This was just Dean…ok, albeit a tremendously pissed version, but that was nothing new to John. He'd confronted Dean's temper many a time in the past, knew that this particular trait was down to genetics…his genetics to be precise, so now it would just be a battle of wills. Who was going to back down first?

The irony -if out of context for a moment- was quite amusing. That Dean would fight John, the way John had taught him to fight, and kick his father's ass. It was a real possibility. But John wouldn't go down easy. Dean knew that.

Dean took a step forward, a little puzzled as to why Bobby was aiming a gun at his father, but to be truthful, not caring in the slightest, not even for the extra reassurance.

"Hey John! I see I've caught you a little off guard. _Surprise_." He growled contemptuously, holding out splayed palms in mock revelation, top lip turned up in an angry snarl.

"Dean…" John hesitated, fear creeping in a little as he watched his son's solid glare, fixed permanently upon his face, unmoving. It was creepy, unnerving.

"Now, I'm gonna make this quick. But I'm gonna have to ask you a couple of questions. And just so you know…I don't like the answers?, I'll kick the crap outta you, if you tell me what I need to know, well…_I'll still kick the crap outta you_. This sound fair to you…_dad_?"

John stiffened and broadened his shoulders.

"Gonna have to take me down first boy. I aint gonna make it easy for you. How about we just talk son?"

"What, you havin a little trouble hearin' John? Huh? you didn't hear me? _I'm_ gonna ask the questions, _you_ are gonna answer. I don't wanna hear any more of your crap about me…or about Sam, I JUST WANT ANSWERS!"

John squared his chin and nodded sharply.

"Fine. _Ask_."

"Where is Sam?"

John looked away but Dean raised a hand to stop the diversion.

"uh-uh. Tell me… where you've taken my brother you son of a bitch. Right fucking.._now_."

John sighed, he opened his mouth to speak, but the words were trapped inside, they wouldn't budge, even under his son's aggressive demand.

"Damn it John! Tell the kid the truth. Tell him what you've really done with his brother."

John looked back at Dean, who's expression had faltered slightly with concern, Bobby's indefinite words ringing in his ears. _What the hell has he done with Sam? Why the hell is Bobby pointing a shotgun at his head? Oh god, this is not good._

"Dean…you have to understand. I was going to tell you, but I knew you'd react…well, like this actually"

" Tell me!"

John looked away and sighed regretfully. He took a moment to muster the courage, before spilling the truth to his son.

"Crowley…Crowley has him."

Dean recoiled. He looked with genuine disbelief at his father for a moment, before accepting the solemn stare, recognising the truth in the admission as he took in Bobby's equally grave features.

And at that minute all he could do was stare back, the anger inside of him now churned with nausea and panic. He wanted to throw up. Couldn't comprehend fully his father's words, didn't want to, not for a moment. _Because what did that mean for Sammy?_

Taking his son's current bemused state as an opportunity to continue, John proceeded to ramble on, excusing how he'd handed Sammy over with his quandary over the deal with Crowley. Told Dean he should be _glad_ he was doing this, that he would have his mother back, alive and well, pulling on the heartstrings of the young hunter in hope of provoking some kind of rational response. But there was no way Dean was playing ball with this one. No matter how John tried to justify it. He'd sold out his son, _sold out Sam_, and handed him over to a _demon_. And now he wanted Dean to _help him?_

Dean's enraged demeanour resurfaced, blood racing through his body as the adrenaline pounded at his heart, and John fell silent at the sudden presence. His son's eyes were dark, the whites almost blooded with fury. Nostrils flaring rapidly as he stared his father down, and began stalking towards him.

He stood almost nose to nose with the man, and stretched out his arm towards Bobby.

"Give me the gun Bobby." He said, low and menacing. Eyes not moving from his fathers.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned, hoping he could reason with the young man before this thing took a irreversibly sinister turn.

"GIVE ME THE DAMN GUN BOBBY!"

Bobby sighed, and shook his head, then looked up in astonishment as the gun flew freely from his hands, straight in to Deans, in time to see Castiel's splayed palm outstretched towards him. He spluttered angrily…

"What the…you're not _seriously_ gonna aid and abet this…you're an…"

"Angel…yes. I know. But John should suffer the consequences of his actions. What he's done is unrighteous, immoral. He should feel some of the pain that he's caused. I have no problem helping to deliver this, neither should you." Castiel admitted starkly.

Bobby's eyes widened and he shook his head with disbelief.

Dean stared at his father over the barrel of the gun, already cocked.

"Son…please, think about this. Think about it…think about what it would mean to have your mother back…"

"I don't care about that…I just care about what you've done to my brother"

"Damn it Dean…Sam is an insignificant part of all this. He probably won't even remember it he's so messed up!"

Dean glowered, and raised the gun a little higher. He snorted.

"You're right dad, Sam might not remember it…_he_ might not, but I will"

And he would have done it, killed his father stone dead, right there.

But as his finger squeezed on the trigger, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, a heavy breeze shook the room and suddenly he was being swept away, twisting through a vortex of colour and way-too bright light. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, shielding them, and kept them closed until finally his body connected with something soft.

He blinked, cautiously, and glanced around, wide eyed with confusion, and feeling pretty ridiculous aiming a cocked shotgun in an empty motel room.

Lowering it, he turned his eyes to the angel standing beside him, with a hand still rested firmly at his shoulder.

Standing stock still, he just stared at his friend, mouth gaping with disbelief.

"Cas, what the hell?" he growled, shrugging his shoulder away from the firm grip. "I had him! Right there…you should have let me kill him…"

Castiel withdrew slightly and looked sympathetically over at the hunter.

"Dean. I said that your father should feel some of the pain he's caused. For him, _knowing_ that you would have killed him right there in that room has done just that. That pain is worse than a million deaths to him."

Dean grunted and walked a few steps towards the bathroom, pausing for a moment at the door. Without turning to look at Castiel, he whispered mournfully.

"No. _You should have let me kill him."_

Castiel paced to the middle of the room and spoke a little more sternly to the young man.

"If I'm not mistaken, Dean, there is a more pressing matter to be dealt with right now."

Dean turned to question him.

But he wasn't there.

"_Freakin angels"_


	15. Part XIV

**Part XIV**

Meanwhile…

The Demon ran the jagged knife across the chest of his young prisoner, relishing every whimper and sound he pulled from him as the blade scraped over his skin.

Sam bucked and gasped as the knife began to draw blood from the red trails already covering his torso. He pulled at the shackles that held his arms stretched cruelly taught to the wall of the tiny cell, desperately trying to break free. His ankles had been forced in to metal stocks causing him to be pulled spread eagle and leaving his already vulnerable body open to the torture.

He sobbed and struggled to little avail. The past few days had entirely worn him down and an almost non-existent provision of food and water had made him almost delirious.

The Demon had shackled him after becoming angered by Sam's petulant, childlike outbursts. Sam was getting increasingly difficult to control, and whereas before, the Demon would have simply flogged and beaten him until he lay trembling and weeping on the tiny cot, he decided he needed to up the scales a little, to try and break his victim that little bit more.

But Sam had despaired long ago, the progress he'd made since being pulled from Lucifer's cage had relapsed and he was slowly regressing to the mumbling mess he'd been on that first night back at home with his brother. His understanding had already degenerated and he only _really_ understood one thing now, the one thing the Demon kept telling him. Repeatedly grinding in to him _over and over_.

"_Dean did this to you, he gave you up. This is all Dean's doing. He hates you Sam, your brother doesn't want you anymore." _

He wished that his brother would _just come to him_, so that Sam could apologise for whatever it was he'd done to make him so mad, to make him not want him anymore. He'd even tried begging the Demon, using as many words as he could manage, begging him to let him see his brother so that he could try his hardest to tell Dean he was sorry. Then maybe Dean would take him home again, away from here, away from all the fear and the pain.

But the Demon had just laughed cruelly, and repeated those hurtful words once again,

"_He doesn't want you Sam, Dean gave you to us to be punished, he wants us to hurt you." _

So now Sam just didn't think anymore. He didn't ask, and he tried not to hope. Vague as this may all have seemed to him in the first place, he was gradually disappearing further in to himself, and there was only one person who could pull him back from the brink.

But _he _didn't want Sam anymore. Or so the Demon said anyway.


	16. Part XV

**Part XV**

Castiel returned to the motel room an hour or two later.

An extensive search for Crowley's whereabouts had proved entirely fruitless. He had exhausted each and every possible lead or clue, and come up with nothing. There was only one thing left to try.

…

Dean watched Castiel with wide eyes and rose to his feet, his gaze darting quickly back to the devils trap he'd been carving on to the floor of the motel room, checking for any imperfection that might allow the demon to escape.

He stepped back, and watched. Waited.

Castiel's hand hovered over the edge of the bowl, and he began to murmur quietly, words that Dean could scarcely make out, but dimly recognisable as some kind of… _unfamiliar_ incantation.

As he continued his mutterings, he allowed several drops of the dark liquid to fall from the small vial in his hand, staining the herbs below a profound crimson. To the right, the arrangement of candles began to flicker faintly.

He frowned in concentration, allowed all the liquid to fall before gently shaking the bowl and setting it back down.

He looked over at Dean questioningly. _Ready?_

The young hunter swallowed, and nodded an apprehensive response towards the angel, who proceeded to reach for the single match he'd laid ready beside the bowl.

Striking viciously, he held it burning above the repugnant mixture of blooded herbs, and let it fall.

…

The flames singed at the leaves and blazed high above the rim of the bowl, settling in almost an instant.

Dean looked up warily, vision hindered slightly by the smoke, but nonetheless able to make out the new, _unwelcome_ presence in the room.

Castiel's lips pursed to a thin line, nostrils flared, and he glared imperiously over at the demon, who opened out his arms in to a cynical greeting.

"Dean, Castiel, so good to see you!" he mocked "Honestly you could look a little more enthusiastic boys…you did call _me,_ no?"

"Oh we called alright…" Dean stepped forward, anger inflamed by the Demon's callousness.

Castiel held up a hand stopping his advance, and turned his head to the side, watching the Demon with scepticism. Something wasn't quite right. _He could feel it._

_His gaze lingered for a moment. _

"_Where_ are you keeping Sam Winchester?" he asked, poised with uncertainty.

Crowley smiled, the grin almost meeting both his ears.

"Now now angel boy that'd be telling. You don't _really_ think i'm gonna cave in that easy, do you?"

Dean glanced over at Castiel, and the demon didn't miss the hesitation that filtered through his stare.

"_Really,_ give me some credit lads, I've got a reputation to uphold. I mean come _on,_ what would that say to my…_employees…_ if I simply crippled under one command from a member of the god-squad?"

"Give me my brother you little weasel or I'm gonna stab you in your face!" Dean growled, stalking harshly towards the devil's trap where the demon was imprisoned.

Crowley laughed, contented that his abduction of the younger Winchester had the desired effect. _This would be easier than he thought. Not that he imagined otherwise._

"Dean, Dean, Dean…You underestimate me. You see, after you father cocked up _oh-so_ royally, I thought…hey! You know what? If you want something done…"

Dean stared in confusion. Crowley's grin had yet to falter, and a feeling of unease crept in as he contemplated the demon's words.

"You really _aren't_…the brightest spark in the box are you, Dean?" the demon teased, his tone now lower, _more menacing_ than before. "You see, one way or another…I knew you'd call, it was just a matter of time. Good old bible boy over here led me straight to you. Honestly castiel…how _very _careless of you."

And with that, he let out a shrill whistle, which was followed closely by another sound, something just a little more terrifying.

Dean tensed, and backed away as the door of the motel room shot open, fear accumulating in his gut as the all- too familiar creature burst in to the room, closely followed by two other nameless figures, eyes glowering black, and threatening. The creature snarled and growled at Crowley's side. He placed a gentle hand on the head of his invisible pet and smirked, savouring the terror in the boys eyes.

Castiel stepped infront of his friend, squaring his shoulders protectively.

"Dean! Meet Growly…_**boys!"**_

And at his word, the taller demon spun around.

Castiel had only an instant to glimpse the familiar enochian sigil that was traced in blood on his back, before the other's hand crashed hard in to its centre…

And the angel vanished.

…

Crowley watched as Dean cowered away from the snarling beast at his side.

"One command dean, just one…that's all it'll take. Now…you've got three seconds, before I let him spill your guts all over the floor. _Let me out of here_."

Dean swallowed past the tension in his throat.

"If I let you out…" he rasped "you take me to my brother."

Crowley chuckled.

"Oh Dean my lad" he said cheerily _"That's exactly where I'm taking you."_

_..._

_**Ok, so get ready, the boys are about to be reunited :D** _


	17. Part XVI

_**Part XVI**_

_**Hey Everyone, sorry I HAD to revise this chapter I just wasn't happy with it. So sorry if you have already read it! I know it's irritating as hell and I shouldn't really have posted it until I was 100% happy with it, but I kept reading over and over and had to make some changes - hopefully you will agree they're for the better- Same plot just added a bit more to it to make it flow a little better. As before, working on next chapter but needs a lot of attention so I will post it ASAP.**_

**...**

Since the motel room, Dean's memory was pretty fogged; courtesy of Crowley's black eyed abettors and the now –mammoth, blood caked lump on the back of his head. Something that had been exacted within a few short seconds of Dean scratching a hole in the red floor markings, reluctantly freeing the stark- faced demon from the devils trap.

It was unnerving that Crowley didn't just kill him there and then. He knew that the modestly powerful demon could have put paid to him in less than a second without lifting as much as a finger, so the fact that he would instead offer to take him to his brother wasn't overly comforting.

However, Dean was only slightly torn.

Beneath being mildly terrified of whatever it was Crowley had in mind for him, was the powerfully un-relenting need to find his brother. The latter of which had invariably prospered.

Admittedly he'd up and yielded to Crowley without much thought and even less hesitation. Because _dammit, _Sam would just win _every time_. Hands down. And Dean would do just about anything, including giving himself over, willingly.

It was prevalently renowned that Sam was Dean's biggest weakness, his _Achilles heel,_ which is why Dean would go to such extraordinary lengths, contradicting everything he believed in. And It's the only reason he would _ever_ bow to a demon.

Because, If they knew just how much he loved his brother, and the extent to which he would protect him…_the things he would be willing to do_… then they also knew exactly how to bait him, and Dean in turn, knew that most of the time they truly would _kill _Sam, _**if he didn't follow the rules. **_

His mind was made up, _consequences be damned._

…..

God only knew where Cas had ended up.

Previous experience with the banishing sigils told him it was unlikely that the angel would be returning any time soon, probably not expecting to find Dean anyhow.

The search to locate Crowley's hideout before they'd resorted to the summoning ritual hadn't exactly come up trumps. So Dean wasn't overwhelmed with optimism that Cas would be able to find it _now_. The angel had only entered them in to the ritual as a final recourse. And that particular move hadn't exactly dealt them a winner either.

But if he knew his winged friend as well as he thought he did, Crowley keeping both brothers at his mercy would mean one seriously determined and pissed off angel.

…...

Since grasping back his consciousness, all he'd managed were brief glimpses of his new surroundings. It wasn't until they had slipped inside and he was a little more coherent that he could tell he was in some kind of enormous derelict warehouse.

He looked up despondently at the windows, recognising the angel proofing sigils drawn on to the glass.

_Place is probably covered in them_…_**Awesome**_. He thought, cursing silently to himself.

Not that he put it past Crowley to have every area well and truly covered.

The demons's, led up ahead by Crowley, were currently frogmarching him through a dank, musty corridor.

He could feel wet, slimy murkiness sloshing under his feet as he walked, and there was a thick stench of rot in the air. Nausea rose in his throat and he had to forcibly stifle his desire to hurl.

He couldn't contemplate the thought that his brother was probably down here somewhere, in this pit. _Alone._

They stopped abruptly and the demon's yanked back Dean's arms as he tried to struggle free. He could hear the clink of a set of keys. Crowley was fumbling in front of them, and looking past him Dean noticed that they had stopped just short of a row of three barred cells.

He watched as Crowley slotted a large key in to the first bolted door.

It creaked noisily as it swung open, clattering deafeningly against the wall with a loud 'clang'.

Dean tensed, trying to ignore the way his stomach churned tightly in to knots, half hoping he was wrong. He just couldn't bare the thought of Sam being locked away like this, down here in the filth, like something just to be forgotten.

They followed Crowley through door in to the tiny cell.

And that's when Dean's heart almost stopped beating altogether.

As he stooped below the barred frame of the cell door, his eyes immediately darted to the only other presence in the room. A tall, but crumpled form, slumped on his side on a tiny cot, facing away from the intrusion. _Hiding away from it_.

His wrists were locked tightly behind his back with thin metal cuffs. A long chain had been fed from them and linked to identical cuffs at his ankles, the end fastened to the foot of the bed, pulled cruelly taught to inflict discomfort.

The rags he was wearing were shredded and useless against the elements of the freezing cell, repulsive red blotches seeped through the fabric in patches across his back.

Dean could make out the familiar long, wavy brown hair, now all horribly tangled and matted.

"_Sammy!"_ He whispered breathlessly, gut clenching as he took in the sight of his helpless little brother.

The bound figure shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and Dean heard a small, frightened whimper.

He tried to pull away, wanting desperately to run to his brother's aid. But the hold on his arms intensified as Crowley instead, moved to Sam's side. He leaned down, and grabbing a fistful of the boys long brown mop, yanked him on to his back, forcing his head around to look over at Dean. A pained sob escaped his lips, but quietened rapidly as his gaze met his big brother's for the first time in over a week.

"Sammy! Look who's come to join us!" Crowley chuckled callously.

Again Dean tried to tug away, but became overwhelmingly preoccupied with the way Sam was looking at him.

The recognition was there, that tiny spark in his mossy green eyes said so.

But, the look was so beseeching, and desperate. Like he was brimming with hurt._ And Dean couldn't bare it._

Crowley let go of Sam, and stood to face the older of the two brothers, who continued to fight off the demon's grasp.

"Dear me Dean, calm down will you? You're beginning to cause a scene!"

He chuckled again with obvious enjoyment at the current hold he had over the pair.

Sam looked over at his brother longingly, confused as to why he wouldn't come to him.

"_You've got five minutes." _he said, and watched Dean as he stilled, his eyes growing disbelievingly wide.

It was absolutely not in his nature to plead. Not over _anything_ but his brother anyway, and certainly not to a demon. _But five minutes? _

That little time he feared would be more torturous for Sam -and for himself- than if he'd never come at all. He would barely be able to check his brother over before the bastard called time. It just wasn't enough, and he looked to the demon in desperation.

Crowley couldn't conceal his satisfaction at watching Dean beg. Beg _him._ And he tortured him a little more by feigning to consider his plea, before repeating,

"Five minutes."

"And then what?" Dean spat.

Crowley shifted slightly, his grin deviating to something much more sinister.

"And then we'll talk." he said ominously.

He nodded to his accomplices, signalling them to release their hold on the boy.

Dean shoved away the demon's hands and eyed Crowley coldly as he strutted past out of the cell, locking the heavy door behind him, and grinning at Dean through the bars.

He walked away, whistling cheerfully to himself.

Dean rushed eagerly to his brothers' side and knelt on the ground next to his bed.

Sam hadn't taken his eyes from Dean since the moment they'd fallen on him and he leaned desperately towards his brother, tugging at the chains that held him still.

Softly cupping his hand around Sam's cheek, Dean traced his gaze over the pale, blotchy face, stained from days of crying, then back to the tear-swollen red eyes that stared up at him.

"Hey baby brother"

He smiled tearfully as that look of absolute pain and desperation clenched his heart, and he pulled him in to a tight hug. Running fingers tenderly through his brother's hair, he shushed and soothed until he felt him turn into his chest. Sam tried desperately to pull up his knees and curl in to his brother, but the chains pulled harshly taught, preventing him. He whined in frustration and tugged at his knees again, becoming increasingly upset that the restriction stopped him from getting closer to his brother.

"Hey, hey, sshh, it's okay… look" Dean climbed up on to the tiny cot, lifting his brother's shoulders carefully so that he could sit himself across the bed, grimacing as he took in the sore, tightly cuffed wrists.

He scooted further down, and pulled Sam in to him.

"Come here buddy." He cooed softly, tugging Sam to lay his head down, now far enough towards the foot of the bed that Sam could curl up in to him without too much pull from the chains.

He cradled him in his arms, hunching his upper body over him protectively, pulling him in close to his chest.

Sam wriggled in the cuffs and looked pleadingly up at his brother, wanting nothing more than to wrap his own arms around him. But he couldn't. Not while he was stuck in these things.

"I'm sorry Sammy, I can't take em' off, I don't have a key. I'm sorry kiddo"

Dean lowered a hand to the cuffs, manipulating each one. They were way tighter than necessary, but he was able to adjust them enough to alleviate some of the pressure.

He winced when he saw the bright red marks encircling each of his brother's wrists, wanted to rip the damn things off so he could bandage him up. But there wasn't enough time.

To compensate a little, he rubbed firm circles at the tops of Sam's arms, trying to soothe away some of the ache there.

"I gotta get these off you" he said hearing a small, broken whimper.

Cradling him once again, he swayed gently, pleased when Sam's overstressed body began to slowly relax in to the motion. He continued for a minute or two, allowing his brother to have a little respite, before he was cruelly ripped away from him again.

…

"sss…ss…ree." Sam mumbled faintly.

Dean paused to look down at his brother, tilting his head questioningly, keeping his eyes soft and loving. he listened again.

"Ss…ree, De…an, ssso..rree" Sam struggled with the words, hiding his face away from his brother.

Realising that Sam was apologising, - _Fucking apologising –_ Dean closed his eyes.

He shook his head, and leaned down to rest his forehead lovingly against his brothers.

"No Sammy. No. You don't need to be sorry" he pulled back again so that his brother would see the sheer, unadulterated love in his eyes, and hopefully know that he'd done nothing wrong.

Sam did see it, and for a moment it confused him. But he could tell just by looking at Dean's face that Dean wasn't angry. He wasn't angry, and he didn't want Sam to say sorry. Instead he was looking at Sam just like he always did, with eyes full of love, and strong arms squeezing tightly and protectively around him.

He looked up at Dean adoringly, wanting desperately to reciprocate the look of devotion his brother was showing him. Because it was something he thought he wouldn't get to see, _ever again._

So he smiled. Albeit just a flicker, but Dean was no less overjoyed by the small gesture. Even amid the pain and the terror his baby brother must have been feeling, he'd still managed a smile.

It was comforting, and in a way it made Dean feel like he failed slightly less. To think Sam would always hold on to him, no matter what. That whatever tried to get in between them would never break him completely, because Sam simply would _not _let go of his brother. It was overwhelming to say the least.

He pulled him close again, allowing Sam to nuzzle comfortingly for the last few minutes in to the crook of his neck, gently threading his fingers through his wavy mop of hair. They lay silently, taking comfort in each other, just for a little longer.

….

Dean sighed, contemplating what was about to happen. Any moment now Crowley would be back and they'd be ripped apart again.

He hugged Sam a little tighter and whispered to him gently, trying his hardest to keep the tremors from his voice as he fought back tears.

"Sammy, I can only stay for a little longer buddy, then I have to go."

He shut his eyes and his heart shattered as Sam began to whimper, muffled sobs vibrating against his neck. And then he felt them, the tears from his brother's eyes, falling hot against his own skin.

"Sshh, sshh, it's gonna be okay little brother, It'll be okay, I promise."

It was to little avail that he tried to reassure his broken sibling. Sam didn't really understand. Latching on only to the words, _"have to go"_

He continued nonetheless.

"I'm gonna get you outta here, I am. Just keep holding on to _me_ Sammy okay, don't listen to anything they tell you. I'll do whatever it takes to get you out, just keep holding on to me. I promise I'll be back soon".

Dean heard the sharp slam of a door from along the corridor, and knew that it would soon be time to let him go.

Sam jumped, and he shushed him some more, closing his eyes tightly.

The sound of footsteps and the distant clinking of keys became louder as the demons approached the cell.

Dean felt the tremors rising up in his brother's body, and held him tighter, burying his face in his hair, not wanting to let go.

One thing was for sure, whatever it was Crowley wanted from him…_whatever it was_, he do it. At that moment he didn't care if it went against every single fibre of his being. He'd do it…without even blinking.

Crowley's smug face appeared at the bars, and he rapped on them harshly with the keys.

"_Well Dean? Ready to talk?" _

Dean sighed, squeezing Sam in his arms protectively.

He nodded coldly at the demon and replied,

"Yeah…ready"

He looked down at his brother one more time before being made to forcibly give him up.

He saw how his body trembled, squirming as close to Dean as humanly possible, trying to keep him from leaving, saw the terror that was building in his eyes as the demons approached them.

And he's sure he could have gotten Sam to calm down first, but they hauled Dean from the bed, snatching away his grip on his brother, and Sam began to wail and scream, pulling at the chains, bucking and thrashing wildly.

One of the demons raised a hand, bringing it down hard across Sam's face, then again, and again.

Dean lurched forward to block Sam from the attack, but was hauled from the room without being allowed so much as a second glance.

"No! Sammy! SAM!" Dean yelled desperately as they dragged him back up the corridor, leaving Sam to receive his beating for misbehaving.

Crowley was pleased, and openly so. His accomplices threw Dean to the ground in a cell further up the corridor, and he watched with a mock- pout as Dean hunched over, sobbing into the dirt.

"_Please…"_ he rasped, gritting his teeth with sheer agony.

"Please, he can't take it. Don't hurt him anymore…I'll do it…whatever it is you want me to do. I'll do it, just…_don't hurt him_…"


	18. Part XVII

**Part XVII**

Dean gripped the cell door and listened intently, resting his head forward on to the cold of the bars, his ears straining to hear something. Anything.

It had been a few moments now since Sam has stopped wailing.

Dean heard everything, every whimper, every moan emitted from his brothers' abused and tortured body, and each one broke him inwardly just a little more. He'd heard Sam try to stifle the too-loud cries, every broken sob penetrating Dean's gut like a knife, wanting nothing more than to wrap his brother in his arms and make it better, let Sam look up in to his eyes and be comforted by the genuine adoration that appeared there, without Dean even needing to try.

Instead, Dean got to listen to the hopeless, heart breaking pleas coming from the other cell as Sam tried his best to call out for him. Childlike noises and groans amidst hardly recognisable words, sounds tripping over each other in desperation. He heard the clink of metal as his brother tugged and squirmed in the chains, and each frustrated sob that followed.

He felt the guilt rise as he wandered freely about the cell, knowing that his brother was restrained so mercilessly, taught chains tugging uncomfortably at his fragile body, with no respite. He'd seen the marks on his brother's wrists and had watched him wince with discomfort when he tried to help.

He knew that Sam had absolutely no idea where he was or why he was there. And he knew that the beatings held no meaning for him either. He didn't understand them, only that they made him hurt. He'd seen nothing but utter terror and confusion in his brothers' eyes as the demon had continued beating down on him. Unrelenting and vicious.

But it was inevitable that Sam would protest his brothers' departure in such a way, not wanting to be parted from him for another second. Dean knew that. And he was convinced by the way that Crowley had so openly gloated when he'd ripped them apart, that the demon knew it too. It was all part of the big master plan, _and Dean was playing in to his hands nicely._

Sam was in a fucking cocoon. He couldn't do any harm. The beating was unnecessary and cruel, and entirely for Dean's benefit. This knowledge was the most disturbing, and the thing that crippled Dean the most. _He_ was the reason Sam was in this mess. He was the reason his brother was being tortured, beaten and starved, locked and bound in a freezing cell with nothing but the clinking of chains for company.

Because it was _Dean_ that Crowley wanted. And he'd known exactly how to get him. So now the only thing left was to make him play ball. Thing was, Dean still didn't understand the game.

Crowley had remained very cryptic, not giving much away at all. He had left Dean to contemplate for a while. In hope -Dean presumed- that forcing him to listen to his brothers tortured cries for an entire night, might make him all the more pliant.

He listened intently, vaguely being able to make out his brothers stuttered breathing, amid an aftermath of random, hiccupping sobs.

Dean had tried before to call out to him, hoping that maybe the sound of his voice would do a little to soothe him.

But Sam was in indescribable pain now not only from the beating. Emotionally he was almost entirely broken, and he _needed_ his brother.

Being denied Dean was right now to Sam, like being denied that little humanity his brother had tried so hard to help him re-capture. And if they were kept apart like this for much longer, it wouldn't be long before Dean would have to try and break through that wall all over again.

Upon hearing the little gasps of pain, Dean called out gently to him once more, this time determined.

"Sammy?" he spoke softly. "Sammy, can you hear me little brother?"

There was quiet. Not one sound for a moment or two. And Dean wondered if maybe he was sleeping, or just too exhausted to answer.

But then he heard it.

A soft, desperate and heart breaking plea, and the accompanying clinking of metal as Sam tried again to escape the restraints.

"De…De…?" he begged out helplessly. "De…c…c…co..me, come… Pl..ea…se?"

Dean's lips quivered harshly at the longing in his brothers' voice. And he responded as gently as he could, to tell him that _no_, no he couldn't come, not yet anyway.

"Soon buddy, I'll come soon."

Hearing another roll of exhausted, dejected sobs, Dean closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think of that might give him a hope at calming Sam where he lay, locked away from him.

He sang to him, raspingly, and with tears on his cheeks that he didn't even remember falling. Humming a tune that he knew Sam would recognise, the first song that Sam had remembered all those weeks ago.

…

It might have been the key turning in the lock, or it might have been Crowley's sadistic chuckle that broke his uncomfortable sleep so early the following day. Either way, it was unwelcome.

Assuming that his exhausted little brother was sleeping, he himself had fallen unconscious against the bars of the cell, rejecting the bed, as sleeping in it would mean being further apart from Sam than he was already. At very least it made him feel a little better that he could almost see Sam's barred door from where he sat hunched against his own.

"Good morning sleeping beauty!"

Dean glowered up at the demon as he stepped inside, his two accomplices standing sentry at the open door to prevent any attempt at an escape.

Un-crumpling himself from the more vulnerable position against the bars, he rose awkwardly to his feet, unable to stop the grimace of pain that shot through his back. He rolled his shoulders and stretched feebly to try and ease the discomfort.

"Sleep well?"

Dean didn't reply, physically unable at this point to do anything but stare with apprehension at the unwelcome figure.

The nervousness in his stomach was rapidly intensifying. It wasn't something he was accustomed to, which for him made it all the more terrifying. For Dean to feel this amount fear in the face of something that normally would be just a straightforward, _easy kill,_ spoke in volumes, and he could feel the desperation taking command of his gut once again as the demon just continued to smirk back at him.

"I can see you're quite anxious…to find out what this is all about? But before I just go blabbin' I've gotta be sure…"

"About what?" Dean asked

Crowley straightened and his smirk faded.

"I've gotta be sure that you're gonna do… what I say. _Whatever_ I say...whatever the cost. Cos I'll be honest with you sunshine…I'm not convinced, and I'm not gonna sit around here on my arse bargaining with you…"

"I said I'd do it didn't I? you have my word…_and you've got my brother_. I'll do it, whatever it is just tell me…"

Crowley pouted and nodded his head, partially satisfied by the hunter's offer of pliancy. The desperation in his voice certainly made it all the more convincing. Still, he did just need to be sure…

"Okay, I believe you. Thousands wouldn't but what the hell I'm willing to put a stake on it, after all…I guess I do have a good bargaining tool…am I right?" he winked, a jerk of his head gesturing towards Sam's locked cell.

Dean had to physically supress the urge to rip his throat out, fisting his hands by his sides and clenching his jaw, teeth grinding angrily together as he visualised the bastards insides spilling on to the floor.

"honestly…you kids these days, no sense of humour" Crowley mocked.

Then his grin faded once again, and he took a couple of small steps closer to the hunter, watching as he recoiled slightly, leaning away from the unwelcome advance.

"Alright Dean…here it is. Perhaps you'd like to sit down? Wouldn't want you to fall now would we?"

"I'll stand!" Dean spat, "Just get on with it…"

"Now now lad watch your tone, remember what happened to little Sammy yesterday? I'd just _hate_ to see a repeat performance. I mean he really is a mess isn't he? Hardly knows which ways up and which is down at the moment, and I'm sure at some point he'd like to get out of those cuffs…nasty things, done a real number on him they have…very uncomfortable…I'd hate to have to keep him chained up like that just because you couldn't keep a civil tongue in that big head of yours!"

Dean pursed his lips and bit back a retort to the demons snide dig. _Knew that he was baiting him_. But Dean had resigned himself to it, and he felt every fucking word like a stake through his heart. He took a deep breath, and asked again.

"What do I have to do? Please, just tell me"

Crowley mused for a moment, watching Dean's distress with a heartless grin plastered victoriously upon his face.

"Ok." He turned and paced the cell a few steps. "That lovely angel friend of yours…Castiel?"

"What about him?"

Continuing to pace, he stopped for a moment and stared up out of the barred window, before turning again to face Dean.

"I want you to summon him…not here obviously, and not now…tomorrow, I want you to bring him here…to _you_."

Dean frowned with confusion. _That's it? Summon Cas? But seriously, why the hell would he want Cas here? After going to all that effort to hide them from him?_

"That's_ it_? you want me to summon Cas?...why?" he asked, partially relieved.

Crowley's eyes danced darkly over at the young hunter, and Dean realised at this point that his relief would be short-lived.

"Because Dean, _you,_ have a very…shall we say, _unique_ bond with that winged son of a bitch…he trusts you entirely, am I right?"

"I guess…I don't understand…"

"No Dean I don't suppose you do…little tricky when words roll off in a sentence in know! must be hard to comprehend…so let me spell it out for you…presently, for some… unknown reason, _you_ are the only one that god fearin' bastard will be summoned by. Now…he has something of mine, and I want it back. I want you to get him here_…and trap him." _

Crowley looked to one of his demon accomplices, who proceeded to hand him a large, glass canister. The clear liquid inside quickly familiar to Dean.

"Holy oil? How the hell d'you get…?"

"I have my sources…" he stepped forward again towards Dean, and the hunter's breath noticeably hitched with apprehension.

"Why?" Dean asked again, voice rasping out in almost a whisper.

Crowley grinned menacingly, his voice low and threatening,

"_Because you're the only one who can get close enough to kill him_."


	19. Part XVIII

**Part XVIII**

It wasn't real. This could absolutely not be happening. Surely Crowley wasn't _serious? _

Dean didn't speak. He couldn't.

He tried, but honestly the words just weren't there, he just couldn't seem to form them. Perhaps because he simply didn't know _what he could say_?

The ultimatum was crushing him slowly to the core, but the fact remained, when it was a choice between Sam and anything else, his brother would always win. And it scared him now to think that there may be a chance he would say no to Crowley_. Because what would that mean for Sam?_

That Dean could even contemplate it was tearing him apart on the inside. Sam always came first, period. And he should have been able to do this without even blinking…But it was just too painful.

_Kill Cas? Surely he couldn't do it…there was no way he could do it. Forget about the dude being an angel, Cas was his friend…_

_**But Sam was his brother**_. And there was no one and _nothing else_ on god's green earth that Dean cared more for than that floppy haired Sasquatch. The thought of being without him triumphed over any sort of pain imaginable. He'd been through hell…literally for that kid, and he'd do it again a million times over. But _this?_

Sling him deep in to the pit with Alastair; have him torture him for forty years or more, even force him to pick up the knife himself…_but ask him to kill his friend?_

He watched the demon hopelessly, eyes wide and unblinking.

Crowley simply countered the stare, considering Dean's reaction. It was unnerving, but really, what more could the bastard do?

Dean tried to think, he really did. But it was impossible right now, simultaneously the reality had begun to sink in and it was just too much to comprehend. There had to be a way out of this, he had to think, _try and think. _

But Crowley was staring him down hard now, trying to figure him out, silently pushing for a response.

He'd made it crystal that he had no intention of bargaining with Dean, It was his way_…or_ _goodbye little brother._

Dean knew deep down that he had no choice. And nevertheless, he'd already given his heedless agreement, already told Crowley he'd do whatever it took to help Sam. _He didn't have a choice._

But he had to try didn't he? He couldn't just give in, Up and kill the one person who had come to his aid in all of this madness, _kill his friend,_ without at least trying? Or even knowing why?

"Well Dean? Tick tock haven't got all day, what's it gonna be?"

It was like the words were trying to penetrate through glass. Muffled and distant. His breathing had become rapid, and he could feel the weakness surging through his body, knees almost giving out. He looked briefly up at the demon, and then back to the ground, eyes flicking quickly from left to right, searching desperately for a solution.

_Why the hell didn't anyone come? _

This was normally so easy. He'd been blessed as a blagger, and in the tightest of situations could usually manage to swing something... _But this time it was different._ Right now all he could see was Sam. Blinded by the image of his helpless little brother lying bound and terrified on that filthy cot, begging for him, pleading for Dean to come to him. It was a powerful distraction, and he needed a minute, he had to stall. He had to know why, _first._

Swallowing down the fear and pushing it past the lump in his throat, he quelled it deep in to his stomach and spoke breathlessly.

"W…why?" his voice rasped out, audibly pain stricken and hopeless. He'd tried to pull himself together, adamant to simple not be defeated that easy. But his pretence was failing quick and fast, _and he knew that the demon could see right through him._

Deliberating for a moment, Crowley watched the hunter with interest. There was no way he was going to divulge that information, especially _not _to a Winchester, but he decided to oblige a little, _just this once_. Because it would be so much fun, _if only to watch him break…_

"Like I said…" Crowley replied "he has something of mine…"

"What?"

"Now Dean that's not _really_ any of your business…"

"You want me to kill my friend the least you can do is tell me why!" Dean spat furiously.

Another moment of silence passed between them and Crowley glared, his tolerance visibly slipping. It was enough for Dean to notice, and he composed himself as much as his wrenching gut would allow, tried hard to appear a _little less defeated. _

"I just…I _have to know_…he's my friend. You can't just expect me to kill him without knowing why." He said, almost a whisper.

"I expect you to kill him regardless!" Crowley fumed.

"So what? This whole thing was to get me here to kill Cas?"

Crowley grinned

"I Think it played out quite nicely…your family…so dysfunctional! It was just too easy!"

"The hell you talkin' about?"

"Really Dean, you must struggle getting out of bed in the morning, I mean, how much do I have to dumb this down? _I think you already know what I mean._ You were warned, time and time again, you _and_ Sam, you knew that one day someone was gonna play on that cute little bro-mance you got goin on. It was inevitable, someone was always gonna use one of you to bring the other down."

"And it just had to be you..."

"Just bloody lucky I guess!" Crowley cheered, smirking complacently. "But come on…did you really think that I made that deal with John out of the goodness of my heart…I'm touched! No you see, proud as I am, and I am proud, Dean…I had no intention of taking you on head to head in a bid for your brother. Path of least resistance…that's me! And who could be _less resisting_ that your dear old dad? Especially after I made him such a tempting little offer!"

Dean's gaze lowered and he stared at the ground, the hurtful words beginning to claim overall defeat. Crowley began to pace the cell, revelling in his victorious attempt to break the hunter, exhilaration etched on his smarmy little face.

" Never really cared much for little Sammy has he? Always too preoccupied with boy wonder_… his good little soldier_."

He turned to face him, eyes fixed intensely on the boy, advancing slowly towards him.

Dean inadvertently withdrew, stepping back before he could stop himself, not wanting to give the demon the satisfaction.

"I mean…I knew it would be easy, but my god! He near enough snatched my arm off!..."

His voice trailed off as he took in the shattered look on the hunter's face, and when he spoke again it was with cold, genuine sincerity.

"It was_ you _Dean, it was you I needed, but there was no way your father was gonna just hand you over. _So I just went for the next best thing_."

Dean agonised over the demon's words, head dropped, eyes on the ground.

"It was simple… to get to Cas, I just had to get to you. And we both know that to do that…I just needed Sam"

Crowley stepped forward, voice even colder than before, relishing the pained expression he had drawn from the young hunter, and he smirked as he carved the knife deeper.

"He handed your brother over to me without even blinking, Dean. Didn't even stop to think about it. I offered him Mary…and he gave me Sam. _Just like that_."

Dean exhaled and shook his head vehemently, not wanting to believe the malicious words the demon was so gloriously spewing.

He knew it wasn't a lie, not this time. But the truth crashed in to him like a sharp kick in the gut. _And it hurt just a bit too much._

"And I told him, I warned him…I said _if we take his brother he's gonna kick off_, threw a few little suggestions his way…even gave him the drugs to use on you. But in the end I never forced his hand. And I know _you_ Dean, too long in one place you start to get a little stir crazy, knew it wouldn't be long before the monotony kicked in, figured then you'd agree to just about anything to get out of there…either _that_…_**or you'd say a little prayer**_ … _And guess which one my money was on_?"

Dean winced, furious that he'd been played so easily, by _Crowley of all people_.

"Hard to get a hold of these days is Castiel…always got something on…almost like he's avoiding me! But then I suppose I'd be avoiding me to, _if I were him_."

Dean looked up slowly, tearful eyes looking to the demon in confusion.

"It all played out quite nicely after that. You see, I knew you'd try and summon me, it was the only way…wasn't expecting you quite so soon though, hence why my employees had to play catch up, full of surprises you are Dean…_all good mind_"

"Why would Cas be avoiding you?..."

"Not quite as powerful as he thinks he is, not nowadays…word is he's been searching for something _…_something to give him…_a little more juice, _shall we say? Asked me to help him find it. Obviously I had my own little provisos, I mean I'm not gonna put myself out for a pat on the back am I? So you can imagine my displeasure when the self-righteous bastard went and left me high and dry. Kept it all for himself he did. I mean that's just greedy Dean wouldn't you agree? after all_, it was me who found it". _

"You gonna tell me what the hell your goin'on about or you gonna keep bein cryptic? Why the hell would Cas ask you for help?"

Crowley grinned.

"I don't know Dean maybe he finally saw through this big front i've been flaunting, saw the good in me?_or maybe he just wanted someone else to do his dirty work_**, **Someone _he _considered a lesser being, someone like me!..."

His demeanour shifted sinisterly and he continued.

"So you see, it's not just about possessions…I want that son of a bitch dead. And just like him, I'm getting someone else to do my dirty laundry, someone…insignificant, disposable. Someone like _you_. Cos I won't lie, watching you squirm really does make my day."

Dean glowered angrily over at the demon.

"So this is all just a big game to you…messin' with people's lives, destroying people because someone stole your toys…seriously dude get over it!"

"I admit there are elements to it that amuse me, but overall, you're the only one who can pull this off, _and there's nothing I'd enjoy more than watching you kill him._ Just…try not to miss."

"Wait I haven't said I'll do it …"

"Oh you'll do it Dean." Crowley's eyes fixed dark and unmoving on the hunter's. _"You'll do it."_

"If you just tell me what it is you want…"

"Enough! What I _want…is your answer,_ and I want it,_** now**_."

"Please… I can get it from him, whatever it is…_you have my brother, _ I won't skip out on you…"

"Have I really been that incoherent…or are you just pretending to be stupid? I want, his bloody corpse splayed out on the ground in front of me, and I want him to look in to _your _eyes, when you plunge the knife in…there's only one way that's gonna happen. Now I'm getting bored, and seen as you still don't seem to understand the predicament this is leaving your brother in, let me make it crystal clear."

Crowley nodded at his accomplices, who stalked forward, grabbing Dean roughly by both arms and hauling him effortlessly from the cell.

…

He'd heard Sam. Heard him whimper as they dragged Dean in to the adjacent cell and chained him mercilessly to the bars opposite his brother, and he didn't want to look up. _He couldn't._

But Sam whined pleadingly, begging for his brother's eyes to meet his, needing the modicum of comfort. And Dean didn't have the heart to deny him.

He raised his head, slowly connecting his eyes with Sam's, watching as the demons entered his brother's cell.

Sam shrank in to himself upon hearing the noises behind him, looking to Dean in desperation. The terror in his face made Dean's heart clench painfully. _He couldn't get to him_.

He pulled at the chains, spitting obscenities at the demons as they approached his brother, but it was all too little too late.

One of them removed the cuffs from his wrists, and Sam let out a relieved sob, moving his arms slowly to the front of him. He gripped unsteadily at the bars and tugged himself forwards, reaching through them towards Dean, broken mossy eyes pleading and desperate, and brimming with tears.

Dean tilted his head and looked at him longingly, his own heart breaking a little more with every sob emitted from Sam's lips as he reached scrambling arms towards him, confused as to why he wouldn't come, and he tugged again on the chains that kept him from him.

Angry tears spilled in hot streams down his cheeks, and he tried his best to be comforting. But this was all his fault. He could stop all of this, _all he needed to do was agree. _

"It's okay buddy, it's alright. I know you're scared, but I'm here okay, I'm here." He said softly.

Sam continued to reach out for him until the demon's yanked him on to his back, forcibly spreading his arms and legs to the corners of the bed and chaining them there.

He struggled weakly, small whimpers escaping.

"De…De..an…Dea…nnnn...g…ge…get…m..me" he begged as the demon ripped away the rags from his chest and pulled out the long, jagged blade.

Dean's mind was flickering back and forth.

Before the pit, Sam could have taken this -not that Dean would have been any less pissed about someone hurting his brother- but he could have taken it. They'd known each other's limits and they knew when enough was enough, when they had to step in, bargain, whatever…

But for Sam, it had been enough since the first day Crowley had him in his clutches, since their father had snatched him out of Dean's arms while he was sleeping.

Because he just _wasn't _the same Sam as before, no matter how much Dean wanted to believe it. His baby brother was just too vulnerable, and he couldn't take this. It wasn't fair to ask him to take it. He couldn't just sit back and let them hurt him while Dean agonised over _the right thing to do_.

He'd already answered his own question. This wasn't fair, Sam depended on him for everything now, and he had to step up.

He watched helplessly as the demon dragged the knife along the side of Sam's face, pressing hard enough for the blood to rush to the surface, and he was about to continue with the torture, when Dean's gut wrenching plea broke through Sam's screams, and the knife halted over the pulsing flesh on his brother's neck.

"Please…please stop. Don't hurt him…_" _he sobbed, head drooping low and despairing, tears falling in pools on to the dirt.

"Don't…don't hurt him…_I'll do it". _

Crowley grinned and waited for a moment, revelling in the hunched over, beaten display of dejection he had created, now displayed so openly for him to see.

They unchained him, and dragged him from the cell.

There was no intention of letting him be with his brother until he had seen this through to the end, _but he had to get to him._ He had to let him know that everything was going to be okay, that this would all be over soon.

The door to Sam's cell was still open while the demon inside unshackled him to reattach the repulsive metal cuffs.

Dean twisted in the demon's iron grip and mustering as much strength as he could, tugged his arms away, darting through the open door to his brother's side.

He took Sam's face in both of his hands, forcing eye contact with his terrified sibling, and pressing his forehead against his brother's he spoke firmly, in hope that he might understand.

"It's all gonna be okay little brother, This'll all be over soon and I'm gonna take you home okay?. I promise Sammy, I'm not gonna let em' hurt you anymore…"

The last words came as he was wrenched from his brother's side, and hauled angrily from the cell. Harrowing sobs followed him, echoing the entire length of the corridor as the demon began to re-attach the cuffs to his baby brother's wrists and ankles, yanking them brutally taught.

They threw Dean back in to his cell and he crawled dejectedly on to his own filthy cot as the door slammed shut.

He wanted to throw up. His gut twisted in to a thousand knots and the pain was radiating through his entire body. Sam's sobs still rang in his ears, he couldn't block them out.

This was it, he'd made his choice.

This was the price he would pay to save his brother.


	20. Part XIX

**Part XIX**

A few hours passed and Dean had heard neither hide nor hair of Crowley, nor anyone or _anything_ else for that matter.

Instead he was again served only with the pleasure of listening to the sound of his brother sobbing out his heart along the corridor. He clutched his fingers at his head and dragged them back sharply through his hair as the noise continued to echo down the hall, wavering intermittently between loud, heart breaking cries and muffled whimpers. This particular assault Dean was sure would haunt him until the day he died.

But now Sam's predicament wasn't the only burden he had to bare, and if it wasn't for the fact that each of his brother's cries was tearing through him like a bullet, shooting through the huge ball of emotion that was steadily drawing him in, then he would probably have just passed out from the sheer strain of it all.

_Sam'll be fine_, _he hoped._ But everything else was far from being okay. In fact it was pretty god damned far.

For now he'd managed to secure his brother's safety – dodging the fact that even though he'd dealt a huge price for such a mercy, Sam still remained chained down like some wild animal. But then Dean knew better than to expect compassion from a demon – but it had struck him like a cord soon after they had left him alone, that the price he would pay was a hefty one, and the consequence of having to live with what he'd done_, -what he was about to do-_ and still manage to function to any level of normality if only for the sake of his brother, was almost inconceivable.

This may have been a conscious choice, a controlled decision that he justified to himself with his brother's physical and emotional vulnerabilities, and the pure fact that Dean just couldn't envisage living without him. But call it what you like, _this wasn't right_.

It wasn't a brave or a righteous choice.

It was _just _a choice.

A choice between his brother, and his friend.

He couldn't cope. Waiting in that rotting, repulsive cell. Waiting until the time came when he would have to carry out his part of the bargain. Not knowing when and still not clearly knowing why, only that Crowley had some kind of beef with his friend that was bad enough to have sealed the angels doom.

Waiting for this was akin to a death sentence in itself.

And he felt stupid. Ridiculous in fact, sitting alone on the tiny cot, calling out to someone he knew couldn't hear a damn word he said. But for the moment the only thing putting paid to how pointless it seemed, was the tiniest modicum of hope he felt to think that his friend might by some small miracle, actually be able to hear him.

It was a long shot,

but he had to take it.

…..

"Cas?...Cas, if you can hear this…"

_please hear this._

"I could really use your help right now…I know I don't have the right to ask, not anymore…_but I don't wanna do_ _this_…"

He sunk his head in to his hands, tears flowing freely against his cheeks. He swiped at them angrily, but they just kept on coming.

"It's Sam, Cas. I gotta protect him, I gotta look after him. He's hurt so bad…I can't let him down, not now he's…"

He paused, wiped again at his cheeks, lips quivering, consciously omitting his acceptance of his brother's mental state, unsure if he would be able continue on if he said it out loud.

"I guess…I guess I just want you to know… if that demon bastard gets his way in all this? then I'm sorry…I'm so sorry Cas, I hope you can forgive me? Or just…maybe understand?…Cos he aint gonna let up on this, I'm countin' on you for a bright idea here…"

He waited, not expecting a response, but hoping to god for one. Praying, for _anything. _

…

He wouldn't, _couldn't_ have known it then, but his words hadn't fallen on completely absent ears.

Because maybe only for the fact that it was so over-wrought with pain, the emotion in his voice shook the obstruction Crowley had so shrewdly cast between him and his friend.

It wasn't quite enough to break it; it was a powerful obstacle. But it _was_ enough to impair it slightly, to get a message through. And that's just what happened.

…

Castiel felt it.

Each and every wave of emotion jarringly flowed it's way to him from Dean. And for the barrier between them to even be rippled in such a way confirmed the strength of their bond_. It was overwhelming. _

But there wasn't time for that, because Castiel was too absorbed by just _how much_ emotional energy was radiating through, bordering on too much and for a moment he feared the sheer presence of it.

He tried desperately to understand what was wrong.

He stood silently, still, gaze flickering slowly between the ground ahead of him, and blankly up in to the distance as the message came, vague, distant, and just too unclear. He could sense that he was being blocked from his friend, some kind of barrier between them, shielding his voice like an invisible gag. And he could feel just how much Dean needed him to hear this.

His own furious mixture of emotions wasn't helping, but the normally composed angel was finding it difficult to remain unruffled. The feeling was unfamiliar, and unpleasant, his usually sincere eyes were unnaturally fraught with worry and panic as he tried desperately to tune in. But it was indecipherable, he just couldn't figure out what was wrong. Such a vast strength of pain-charged emotion; it was almost too much for the all-seeing, all- hearing angel to pick apart, and a feeling of overwhelming urgency frightened him.

Something was really wrong, but what?

_God,_ _so much pain_.

An incapacitating swarm of turmoil that he just didn't know what to do with.

Because no matter what he tried, squeezing closed his eyes, trying desperately to tune in to Dean, to hear him, locate him, anything. Nothing worked. He was powerless.

"What is it?" he mumbled, eyes closed as he strained to listen, to feel.

There it was again, _panic, grief, desperation…_swarming all at once, twisting empathically at his gut.

"I can't hear you, Dean, I don't know…" he paused, tried again. No good. Tried again.

And suddenly there it was,

Flickers of a voice, an odd, interrupted sound here and there, gradually becoming clearer, if he could just break though a little more…

Eyes squeezed tight, brow furrowed. Breath deep and steady.

And then he could hear them, the words. Albeit Intermittent and distorted, but they were there at least.

He listened intently, trying to decipher the message, Dean's voice plaguing him further with urgency and worry as he finally managed to tune in…

"Help…"

"Don't wanna do this…"

"…Sam…"

"Gotta protect him…"

"…so sorry Cas…"

"…_**I'm Counting on you**_**…"**


	21. Part XX

_**Ok, so here's the next chapter. I love love love writing Castiel! The next chapter will be the big one and will probably be in two parts, I will be working on it over the next few days so you won't be kept in suspense for too long! I hope you enjoy this as much as I love writing it, thank you for your lovely comments and reviews. Happy reading! **_

**Part XX**

Bobby raised his cap from his head, shifting it slightly before settling it roughly back down. He sighed sharply with annoyance.

"Why in Gods name are you still here Winchester? Thought I told you to get the hell out of my house"

"I wanna help Bobby…" John replied from where he sat, clasping his hands tightly together in front of him on the kitchen table.

He looked over at the older hunter. Bobby was clearly unhappy that he'd decided to stick around, and he made no effort whatsoever to hide it, but it hadn't deterred John from doing so. As per usual John Winchester did whatever the hell he liked.

He shook his head.

"Whatever you might think of me, I'm still their father…they're still _my_ boys…"

"Don't give me that bull crap, you lost your right to call yourself a father the minute you sold out your son…" Bobby retorted, pointing an accusing finger at John, who glared back irately.

"I didn't do it for me…" he said firmly.

"No? Then who exactly d'you do it for huh? Cos it weren't for Dean and it sure as _hell_ weren't for Sam. Who you tryin' a fool?"

"She's their mom, Bobby, _of course _it was for them."

"Even if that's true, _which I doubt it is_, it don't make it okay dammit! Sam's your son, _your flesh and blood, _and you used him to bargain with a demon! Now tell me that don't go against everything you stand for…"

Bobby looked to the man in exasperation. No matter what he said, or how he put this to John, the stubborn bastard wouldn't yield. Couldn't admit that he was wrong.

"it doesn't matter now anyway…Crowley went back on his word." John looked away from Bobby and rose to his feet.

"Doesn't matter?..._Doesn't matter_? That rat bastard's still got your son, how can than not matter to you?"

"I said I wanna help didn't I? what more can I do? I wanna kill that son of a bitch…"

Bobby snorted judgementally

"Yeah, I'll bet you do…" he mumbled.

A moments silence passed and the air grew abundantly tense around them as they continued to glower at each across the room.

"What exactly are you saying Bobby?" John asked quietly, his tone low and steady, verging on threatening.

"I'm sayin'…your deal with Crowley went belly up, and now _you_ want revenge. This aint got nothing' to do with getting Sam back, this is _you_ stampin your feet cos y'didn't get what it was you came for!" Bobby bit back harshly, ignoring the edge of danger in John's voice.

John's expression turned undeniably cold and an angry smirk twitched at his lips.

"_A deal's a deal Bobby…"_ he said.

The words were like ice to Bobby's heart, and John's sudden indifference made the older hunter see red. He was all geared up to lunge at John when another voice broke in to the room.

"_Enough!…_Enough with your petulance!"

The two men looked around in astonishment. Having been so consumed by the moment, they had failed to hear the gentle flutter of wings.

…

"Cas?" Bobby asked gingerly, recoiling a little as he took in the wrathfully charged glare the angel was protruding upon them both.

His eyes travelled slowly between the two hunters, head unmoving, eyes unblinking.

Unspeaking, for what seemed like an eternity. So Bobby tried again.

"Cas, what are you…?"

"Oh believe me, I have _no_ desire to be here. I had hoped at very least… that you might have rid yourself of your… _houseguest_." He said, looking to John who scowled indignantly at the remark.

"Trust me…he's leavin'…" Bobby replied throwing an accompanying scornful look towards the other hunter.

"I'm not goin anywhere Bobby, not until I…"

"This… would be a good time… for you to be very…very quiet." Castiel strode slowly towards John and halted within an arms-length of the man.

"I have no time, for your petty bickering, and I certainly have no time for _you_. So please…do me the courtesy, of keeping _silent_"

"I wanna help" John insisted adamantly.

It hadn't taken much, but the angel's tolerance had already been tested well beyond its limits over the past few days, and he lost his cool quickly with the hunter.

He stalked closer, and John retreated hesitantly, his simpering look silently defying the angel to have any real superiority.

But Castiel wasn't playing ball, he could see right through John, and he had no intention of justifying the supremacy of his power to the man.

"I have no need of your assistance…you…_repulse me_. It's people like you, who give mankind the reputation that it has…Keep…_silent_."

With his eyes still fixed upon the oldest Winchester, Castiel withdrew slowly.

He turned his gaze to Bobby.

"But I do need_ your_ help Bobby." He said.

"Sure thing, what d'ya need? I take it you had no luck findin' where Crowley's keepin'Sam?"

Castiel shook his head once and averted his gaze.

"No. But there's more now, things have…changed. It's bad."

"How d'you mean bad? What's happened?...Cas?"

Castiel sighed, gaze fixated firmly on the ground. His brow furrowed tightly as he looked back up at Bobby.

"I mean… Crowley has taken Dean also…and I have no idea where."

The shock of the revelation forced Bobby to sink back in to the chair beneath him. His expression contort with horror as he looked up at the angel.

"How the hell'd that happen? I thought he was with _you_…?"

"He was. Unfortunately it appears that Crowley was one step ahead of us…" Castiel paused and shook his head solemnly. "That's definitely not a good sign"

"Huh…y'think?" Bobby huffed quietly.

Castiel stiffened at the negligible retort.

"It means…that whatever he has planned, Dean is at the centre of it."

"How do you work that one out?"

"Because taking Sam, was just a ploy to draw him out, to make him go directly to Crowley…it seems that Dean was the one he really needed."

John shook his head, daring to break his silence.

"No. _No_ Crowley wanted Dean to help me… Sam was only…" John quietened and his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Go on." Castiel said impatiently.

"Yeah John…Sam was only _what _now?" Bobby glared at the hunter, still fuming over John's previous apathy over his son.

"Sam was only…he was only handed over in exchange for Mary" John replied, a tinge of guilt audible in his voice.

Bobby growled, ready to hurl another stream of angry obscenities, but Castiel raised his hand, silencing him.

"I'm sorry John, but I don't think that was the only reason Crowley needed Sam. He had much bigger plans. Did it occur to you why didn't he just ask you for your soul in return for Mary? Why Sam was more important to him than something of such tremendous value?"

John shook his head. _No_

Castiel looked over at Bobby, who shrugged his shoulders cluelessly, eyes curiously wide.

"He wasn't interested in your soul John, because that's exactly what it is, just _one _soul."

John and Bobby frowned identically in confusion.

"Crowley doesn't want one soul." Castiel continued. "Why would he? when he could have millions?"

…

"Purgatory?" Bobby asked disbelievingly. "You mean _actual_ purgatory?"

Castiel sighed with frustration.

"How many other purgatories do you know Bobby?."

"well…none until about thirty seconds ago"

"Yes, actual purgatory…"

"You know for sure that's what he wants?"

Castiel paused and looked away remorsefully. He nodded once,

"I'm certain of it."

"How?"

"_Because I shared his desire to find it._ He was…assisting me."

"You were workin' with _Crowley_?" Bobby stood up and looked over at the angel in disbelief.

"No." Castiel responded adamantly. "No, he was merely…useful to me. he helped hunt out the monster that would give us the answers we needed to locate and open purgatory."

"Yeah but still…_Crowley?..."_

"I don't think either of you are in any position to call judgement on _my _misconceptions_." _Castiel countered furiously.

Bobby held up his hands palms splayed, averting the challenge from the angel cautiously.

"Okay okay…touché! But you're not tellin me Crowley helped you outta the goodness of his heart…" he said, hoping he'd managed to successfully stifle the argument, not wanting their focus on finding the boys to be diverted.

"I promised to share with him the souls housed in there. He would harvest one half, the other half would be mine. That's what I led him to believe anyway." Castiel responded, climbing slowly down from the previous outburst.

"You mean you double crossed him? Great that's all we need, one seriously pissed off Demon on a power trip!" Bobby huffed.

"I merely absconded with the source of information Crowley had located for us. I had no intention of allowing him to enter purgatory."

"So you got him to do your dirty work for you, then left him high and dry…boy I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when he catches up with you."

"That's just it." Castiel said solemnly. "He already has."

"huh?"

The angel sighed and looked down at the ground. His face lined with remorse and concern.

"Earlier I heard Dean calling me. His voice was vague…distant. He told me that he was sorry, that he had to protect Sam…"

"Sounds like Dean." Bobby commented. He watched the angel with compassion, noting how Castiel's gaze had still not left the floor.

"He was desperate, pleading for my help. But something just wasn't right…"

"You think Crowley took the boys to get to you" Bobby said gently.

It wasn't a question, and Castiel didn't receive it as one. Bobby had merely confirmed the angel's judgement, and he nodded despairingly.

"He knows it's the only way to draw me out. Taking Sam to get Dean…and using Dean to get to me. He knows how much I care for the boys, Dean and I in particular share a strong bond…that's why he was able to contact me despite the obstruction Crowley has created between us…and that's why Crowley is using him against me. He wants this to hurt."

The room fell silent for a few moments while the two hunters absorbed the latest revelation.

It was Bobby who spoke first.

"So…where do we start?" he asked

Castiel straightened up and squared his jaw with determination. He nodded over at Bobby.

"I need you to be prepared. Wherever they're holding the boys, I can't enter. I'll need you for that. We just need to wait for the call."

"And in the meantime?" Bobby asked.

"Right now there's someone I need to find. I have an idea…_I think it'll work_, but i'm going to need a power stronger than my own."

"We can't just leave the boys to rot without at least trying to find out where they are?" Bobby protested urgently.

The angel shook his head.

"I sincerely doubt we'll be kept waiting" Castiel replied. "So I have to move quickly if we have any chance at succeeding."

He smiled solemnly over at the hunter.

Another gentle flutter of wings, and he was gone.

Bobby huffed in frustration, blinking in to the now- empty space before him.

"Might help if we knew what the plan was" he mumbled

"_idjit!"_


	22. Part XXI

Part XXI

He hadn't expected this quite so soon, and had barely made it back to Bobby's when Dean's voice broke through, clear as day.

Crowley had clearly not twigged that his plans had been intercepted, and it was only down to Dean's overwhelming faith in the angel that made this whole thing possible.

But Castiel still didn't know what exactly Crowley had in store, and in all honesty he was simply winging this. Without knowing what lay ahead he had to accept the possibility that he could just cause more harm than good.

_No room for hesitation. _

He'd briefed the two awaiting hunters hastily upon his return, and was relieved to see that they had prepared just as he had asked.

Hopefully it would be enough to deal with an inevitable mass-demon-bare-hunter standoff. Not that Castiel expected to be entirely redundant himself, only maybe slightly less…_influential_ than he'd like. But when the call came, a familiar feeling of helplessness washed over him once more, and he tried desperately not to portray his emotions to the two other men, this was uncertain enough without them losing all hope too.

Dean's voice gripped deep and twisting in to the angel's heart, and it's sudden transparency startled him.

There was nothing in between them this time, no barrier or other supernatural force.

If he hadn't been sure before, now Castiel was certain.

This was a trap.

…..

Dean just waited.

Alternating between shuffling around the cell, kicking glumly at the dirt-caked ground, and slumping on the filthy cot.

Just waiting.

The son of a bitch certainly knew what he was doing. Making him wait, allowing him to ponder. Prolonging his agony for as long as possible.

And it was working a treat.

The anticipation was shaking him to the core, and in more than one stupid moment he was almost jealous of his brother's incoherence.

He folded his arms across his chest and let out a short, anxious sigh, an action he had repeated numerous times in the past few hours as the nerves slowly crept up on him.

Nausea kicked in and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply to quell it without much success.

….

"My my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes" Crowley mocked.

Dean jumped, so preoccupied with trying not to vomit he hadn't heard the approach, and the unwelcome voice startled him.

He looked up to meet Crowley's smug smile through the bars of the cell, and could manage nothing more than to blink back at the Demon.

"Oh Dean, Dean…I do _hate_ seeing you like this. I don't take pleasure in keeping you locked away down here you know..."

"Bite me, you piece of shit…" Dean retorted angrily. He sunk back on to the bed and turned away,

_Please God, don't let this be it…_

"Well, anyway, enough of this friendly _chit chat_…time to get down to business!"

_No_

Dean closed his eyes, turning his head completely away so that Crowley couldn't see the despair etched on his face. There was no way he was going to let the bastard revel in this.

He sat up straight, squared his jaw defiantly and turned back to glare at his captor.

"_Fine." _

Crowley just continued to smirk at him, reading him like a goddamn book.

The boy's indifferently stoic features were no match for the demon, and he enjoyed a few seconds of gleeful consideration before nodding towards his abettors, lurking two steps behind in the shadows.

In the next moment the door of the cell sprung wide open, metal clanging against metal with a deafening _CLANG!_

Without any further preamble Dean found himself hauled to his feet and dragged forcibly from the cell by his arms.

His un-responsiveness just made it all the easier, rough hands shoving and prodding him in the right direction, and his body obeyed, bowing down out of sheer hopelessness.

"Where are we going?" he asked, craning his neck to glimpse back down the corridor, realising that he hadn't heard a peep from his brother in the past few hours.

"You'll see." Crowley said cheerfully, leading them towards the door.

Dean shrugged his shoulders furiously

"Would ya lay off! I know how to walk dammit!" he growled trying to tug his arms free.

….

They marched him through the previously deserted warehouse, now teeming with more of the black eyed tormentors.

A few more slipped out of the shadows and corners of the dilapidated building to get a hungry look at their infamous kingpin, and more so the universally hated and renowned _boy hunter_, at whom they hissed and glared with blood thirsty malevolence.

Dean didn't avert his gaze. He kept his jaw firmly squared and repaid their taunts with a dead eyed, lip-curling snarl.

He had been glad in a way to be leaving the dark, dankness of his cell; stir crazy just was _not_ an adequate enough expression.

But his relief was quickly supressed as Crowley led them through a door on the opposite side of the warehouse, and he spotted a solitary table amid the otherwise empty room.

On the table was a glass bottle, brimming with a translucent liquid. His heart dropped.

_Holy oil._

This was really going to happen.

….

"Right pretty boy…let's get to it." Crowley picked up the bottle and thrust it firmly in to Dean's hands.

"You want me to…?" he looked at the Demon in disbelief, eyes wide with despair.

Crowley nodded coldly, and jerked his head, commanding him silently to, 'get on with it'.

Dean looked down at the bottle in his hands and closed his eyes. Swallowing hard, he moved trembling fingers to the cap and popped it open, letting it fall uncaringly to the ground.

"W..where?" he croaked.

"Right here's fine" Crowley replied, smiling at the gloomy display.

Dean held out the bottle and began to shakily pour the liquid on to the dirt, moving as steadily as he could manage to form a complete circle.

Drops of oil splashed haphazardly around his feet and he struggled to steady himself, to little avail.

His angst delighted the demons, and all three watched with contentment as he dolefully completed the task.

He shook out the remaining liquid and tossed the bottle viciously at Crowley's feet. It didn't shatter on the softness of the ground, but the intention was clear and the demon glared up at him with a diminutive, evil smirk.

"_Boys" _he said coolly.

The demon's seized Dean by the arms once again and forced him to his knees in front of the circle. And then Crowley was behind him.

He heard the spark of a lighter, and then the foul stench of tobacco assaulted him, inciting his nausea. He turned his head away in disgust as the demon moved closer.

Callous fingers tangled themselves in his hair and tugged, yanking his head back sharply and giving him no choice but to meet the demon's chilly gaze.

A cloud of smoke respired from his nostrils as he began to speak, and Dean fought the urge to gag in repulsion.

"Right then…time to _dial an angel_."

He shoved Dean's head forward and relinquished his grasp.

"Get on with it…_and make it good." _


	23. A Quick Message

Hey everyone, I'm so sorry I know I have taken an unforgivably long time to post this update. I promise it won't happen again, but just so you know I do have a very valid excuse, I just can't tell you what it is

I hope you all enjoy the update

Loki


	24. Part XXII

Part XXII

_**Ok. So this is quite short but necessary. I hope you like it :)**_

_**...**_

"Ok, I have their location…It's time".

Castiel turned to the two hunters, who stood ready and waiting with supplies in hand.

"_So_…you gonna put a call in or what?!" Bobby asked impatiently.

Castiel nodded.

He closed his eyes, and the two men looked on as he began to murmur quietly to himself. It was an incoherent stream of foreign babble, but nevertheless something that both hunters recognised as Enochian.

A few short moments passed and his eyes flickered open again. He sighed with uncertainty.

" to go."

….

Dean bowed his head low, breathing in deeply to supress a debilitating mixture of emotion, and to stopthe tears that threatened to spill over at any second.

He held it for a moment, desperately willing the tremors to cease. A tingling of nerves erupted from the pit of his stomach and pulsed throughout his body, rendering him limp and acquiescent.

He exhaled slowly, and the tears he'd fought so hard to keep at bay began to flow.

His jaw was locked tight, and he knew he had to claw back the controls to his body, if he was going to see this through.

Squaring his shoulders, he raised himself from his dejected stance at the demon's feet, bowing his head once again, only this time in prayer.

He closed his eyes tightly, and cleared his throat to speak.

"C…Cas?... come in Cas…I...errr… I really need to…"

He froze as a gentle breeze swept softly through the room, and he heard the familiarly soft flutter of wings.

As painful as this was, the presence was overwhelmingly calming, and the most comfort Dean had felt in days. It just made this harder.

"Well well…Castiel, we meet again." Crowley cheered, and tossed his cigarette to the ground by the angel's feet.

The flames rose quickly, igniting a trail along the path of Holy oil, burning and dancing gleefully around the angel, who poised himself coolly amidst them.

He stood before the boy, paying no heed to the other, darker presence in the room, and instead looked upon his friend solemnly.

Dean couldn't look up.

He couldn't.

He hunched forwards, dropping his chin to his chest and let out a quiet, but gut wrenching sob.

And even _this_ presence had to admit to himself, that seeing Dean Winchester look so utterly defeated…broken, was enough to melt the heart of the most devout angel.

He smiled, soft and crooked, and the words he spoke next penetrated through Dean's bubble of hopelessness…pressing pause on _everything…_

"Well…isn't this a little _mystery spot_."


	25. Part XXIII

Part XXIII

_**Hey everyone, hope you like this update, was a bugger to write! It was far too tricky... ;)**_

_**...**_

Dean's breath hitched.

_Mystery Spot. _

His mind was currently incapable of making any kind of connection, and he couldn't think why it was significant, just knew that it was. But even through his incoherence and misplaced understanding, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He raised his head, slowly as if the words had commanded him to look up, and It was a painful struggle, but the angel's voice soothed away some of the hurt, giving him back a little of the strength he'd lost at the hands of the Demon.

He blinked, and it took a few more seconds, a few deep breaths, but slowly he looked up.

When he met Castiel's gaze, his confusion only heightened.

Something.

Something… about the way he was standing…

it was just a little…_off_…cocky almost.

He couldn't shake it.

"Hello Dean." He said softly.

"Cas?...i'm…I…" he stuttered breathlessly, choking back a tearful gasp.

"Ohhhh, that's so _sweet_!…look at him, all tongue tied" Crowley mocked. "Castiel! Forgive me for not calling during office hours but err, tick tock, time's getting' on…and I don't think there's really any need for me to explain myself…I think you_ know _why I've called you here_"_

Crowley stared unblinkingly at the angel, who's own eyes remained fixed on the boy kneeling before him. He turned his head stiffly towards the demon with an uncharacteristically mocking smirk, eyes following.

"Why don't you just humour me?" he said.

Crowley let out a small irritated chuckle.

"Oh dear me, we are in a _feisty_ mood aren't we? I mean it's not like i've got any real leverage here or anything…_is it_?" he said sarcastically.

"Maybe you do have the upper hand, but even so…you don't ask…_you don't get_."

Crowley stepped as close to the burning oil as his stumpy little meat suit would allow and glared menacingly at the angel through the dancing flames.

The light from the fire tainted his face with a red glow that played harmoniously along with his threatening stance.

"I don't like games Castiel…but lucky for you I'm feeling very generous"

"Awww, how noble of you…" Castiel tilted his head to the side in a cocky gesture, one the demon didn't seem to interpret as anything out of the ordinary.

Dean on the other hand just thought that Castiel had gone nuts, or perhaps _finally _developed a sense of humour…though this seemed a rather inappropriate time to be sharing any new found humanity, what with the burning circle of holy oil n'all. He stared at the angel with a puzzled expression.

"Well, what can I say…" Crowley continued. "Who am_ I_ to deny a condemned man one last request? Quite funny really when you think about it…what was the last thing you said to me? _You remember_… right before you screwed me over?!..."

Crowley held out his hands palms splayed.

"Flea, or die!" he said in mock imitation.

He laughed coarsely, and his crazed eyes widened as he glared at the angel, dancing darkly with menacing glee.

"_Well, now it's my turn_" he said, voice low and threatening. "Except…this time, it's just _die."_

Castiel squared his jaw valiantly, smirk unfading.

"_Best hurry it up then."_ he jeered in pure retort at the demon's threat; Something that Dean felt was perhaps more than _just _a little reckless right about now.

"Oh I intend to, right after you tell me… everything, you know about purgatory…and I do mean _everything _Castiel. You see if you remember, I know that you have the details of the ritual…and the incantation. I want it all. and just to be sure you're not telling me porkies, I'll be keeping hold of your two little pets until after the main event, y'know…_just incase_. Call it insurance..."

Castiel's smirk still hadn't faltered and he continued to stare back at Crowley with a look of sheer amusement etched on his face.

Dean was growing more confused by the second. Castiel's mannerisms were simply way, _way off_. This was just all wrong, why was he behaving so indifferently? It was like he was…

_And that's when Dean clocked it. _

Or at very least he suspected that he had.

_Mystery spot?!_

_It couldn't be…could it? _

But then all the right moves were there; the mocking stance, and the _blatant _cockiness.

He was pretty certain that Castiel could never master that kind of swagger, _but he did know of one person who had it down to a fine art. _

He looked up at the angel with wide eyes, watching him closely for more tell-tales signs.

_How in the hell could he be sure? _

…..

"You done yet Winchester? we aint got all day! Hurry it up would ya?!" Bobby yelled over at John who was ripping open another bag of rock salt.

John scowled at the older hunter and continued to line the granules in thick white streams along the window ledge.

"Where the hell's Cas anyway?" he asked, scrubbing ferociously at his forehead with his sleeve.

" He's gone to find the water system."

"Why?"

"Guess he was thirsty" Bobby deadpanned.

"What...?"

"To bless it y'idjit!"

John grumbled something incoherent under his breath which Bobby chose to ignore, and finished off his own salt lines.

"We done?"

Bobby raised his cap from his head and let out an uncertain sigh. He nodded.

"Think so"

….

"_We need to move quickly"_

Castiel appeared yet again from absolutely nowhere, and beckoned for the two hunters to follow him.

"Where we goin'?" Bobby asked, hurrying along beside the angel. "d'ya bless the tank?"

Without acknowledgment of the hunters questioning, Castiel stalked quickly towards the back of the warehouse with both men in close pursuit.

He stopped at the corner and closed his eyes briefly.

"The sigils are powerful…but I can feel that we're getting close." He said.

"Close? To what?"

Castiel turned to look over at John.

"To Sam." he replied.

The two men looked at each other and then followed as the angel continued across the dust laden yard at the back of the building.

They neared the far wall and there was no further to go, a dead end.

Castiel brushed his hand gracefully along the brickwork and slowly retraced his last few steps.

He paused.

"he's close." He mumbled quietly.

Bobby scanned the exterior of the dilapidated old building, and his eyes settled on something a few feet away.

"Look, down there."

At the base of the building was a small window, secured inside and out with rusting black metal bars. Internally it had been shattered and the serrated edges jutted out this way and that, razor sharp. Remnants of broken glass lay scattered on the dirty ground below, crunching underfoot of heavy boots as the three men hurried over.

Bobby swallowed, paying little heed to the huge lump in the back of his throat as he crouched down to peer through the bars.

Straining his eyes to see in to the blackness, he shifted his position to get a better look. Shards of glass splintered under his boots as he pressed his cheek against the wall, trying to glimpse in to the shadowed corners of the room below.

"Well? What d'ya see?" John asked impatiently. "Bobby? Is he in there?"

Bobby was about to pull back to tell him to shut the hell up when something inside caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes, stilling for a moment to see if it happened again.

A few seconds passed, and nothing.

He searched the ground by his feet and picked up a large pebble, tossing it through the bars on to the floor below. It rattled and rolled across the ground, clinking as it settled against the metal bars of the cell inside.

He peered inside again and listened intently, bringing a finger to his lips to signal for silence.

His eyes widened as a familiar stream of terrified whimpers echoed quietly from inside the room, chimed with the clink of metal as a figure in the corner began to shift.

….


	26. Part XXIV

Part XXIV

**Hey you guys I am so so so sorry that I disappeared again! I didn't mean to keep you hanging I swear, hope you're still with me on this. Well here's the next part :)**

...

"Sam? Sam that you in there kiddo?"

Bobby called gently through the bars, the attempt at gaining any kind of response he knew deep down was entirely futile, and he was furthermore aware that if indeed the elusive figure _was_ Sam, anything out of the ordinary –_anything like this_- was only likely to terrify the poor kid, if his previous state was anything to go by.

John however seemed much more conscious of the rather short time constraint -_something Bobby hadn't himself neglected_ -and huffing his annoyance at his friends somewhat pragmatic approach just earned him a well groomed 'death glare' from the older man, something Bobby usually reserved for Demons and other evil son-of-bitches, but at this point directing it towards John seemed only fitting, given this was entirely _his _doing.

"You think you can do better hotshot be my guest…" he started, cut short as John shoved him unceremoniously aside with an ignorant grunt and grabbed hold of the bars to peer inside.

"SAM?!" he bellowed.

Bobby rolled his eyes angrily,

"Yeah, that outta do it!" he griped "Why don't ya stick a bulls eye on your ass while you're at it…ever heard of the word subtle?..."

"SSSHHHH!" John hissed back.

"SAM?!" He called again, earning himself another exasperated eye roll from Bobby.

But this time the squirming figure inside the cell stilled, and let out a startled, familiar sob.

Bobby's eyes widened as he heard the familiar sound. He nodded.

"That's good enough for me." he said turning to face Castiel "Now just _tell me_ you got enough juice to jimmy open these bars?"

Castiel sighed thoughtfully, and placed his palm flat on the wall in front of him. After a few moments he turned back to the hunter looking mildly perplexed.

"Its hard to judge …but I think I may be able to get you inside" He said, the mystified edge to his voice causing the two men to glance at each other uncertainly.

"You mean the sigils aren't working?" John asked.

"Oh they're working fine…just looks like someone may have slipped up along the way, They're weak enough for me to penetrate from this side, but getting you out may be more difficult, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Well wait a damn second, you mean we might be stuck in there?...And why in God's name are you able to get through all of a sudden? aint that more than just a little strange to anyone else…?" Bobby started anxiously.

"It's still quite straightforward" Castiel replied. "We stick to the plan, though you'll have to use the salt to protect Sam from harm while you perform the exorcism…Once you've done so we stand a chance of getting him away from here without Demon interference, the water should do enough damage to the sigils so that I can get you all out of there". He said, nodding optimistically.

The two hunters looked at each other.

Sensing their hesitation, Castiel sighed and placed his hands firmly on their shoulders.

"Look" he said encouragingly "The sigils have been weakened, whatever the cause, we ought not dwell on something that fate has decided should be in our favour."

And without further preamble, he delivered them instantly in to the room beyond the barred window.

….

"Holy _mother_ of…!" Bobby exclaimed, clambering agonizingly to his feet. "You do that again without warning me and I'll boot your ass back up to cloud nine!" he hissed up at the angel, who was now hunched at the barred opening, peering down at them.

"I'm Sorry" Castiel replied solemnly, and with such a blatant innocence that the hunter couldn't honestly bring himself to retort any further.

He dumped his pack on the ground and had just started undoing the fastenings to retrieve his supply of rock salt when the silence caught up with him.

"John?"

John stood about 5 feet away, motionless and unspeaking, staring intently at the dark haired form curled up on the bed nearby.

As his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness of the room, he took a couple of steps closer and knelt down beside the small cot, not missing the flinch of terror and the quiet, dejected whimper he provoked.

He reached out shakily and placed his hand on the boys arm.

"Sam?" he said gently.

The figure recoiled further in on himself and continued to whimper as the intruder began to brush the soiled clumps of matted hair away from his face.

It wasn't Dean that was for sure.

He knew Dean's voice and this definitely _wasn't_ Dean.

In any case, regardless of this new trauma, Dean was and would continue to be Sam's lifeline, and furthermore his only link to any slight of humanity he had left since the pit. His sheer presence when he was nearby was usually enough for Sam to latch on and feel immediately secure. This stranger may have been gentle enough, but the feeling was nowhere near as overwhelming.

But it _was_ familiar.

He uncoiled slowly, enough to gingerly turn his head to see.

John watched him, witnessing his boys' agony over this simple gesture and feeling every flinch of terror deep in his own gut.

And he could hardly bring himself to look at his son.

His stomach clenched with guilt when he saw the vague recognition in Sam's eyes, and he felt his son's unease settle with this new familiarity.

He knew he had no right to bestow this on his son; given that it were his own actions that had put him in this godforsaken place. He felt like a total fraud, but in truth, this reality brought him crashing back down to earth, and for the first time since making his deal with Crowley, he felt actual shame.

"S..sam?" He stuttered. "Oh God…Bobby…Bobby we gotta get him outta these." He said anxiously, grappling at the chains. Sam began to mewl in distress and looked pleadingly up at John who placed his hand gently on his head to sooth him.

"Bobby?...dammit! help me!" he growled, furious at the older hunter's lack of response.

"JOHN!" Bobby hissed "Cut it out! If you really wanna help Sam then first we gotta deal with this! Now there are maybe hundreds of those black eyed bastards in there, we need to make sure that Sam's safe while _we_ deal!..."

John put his head in his hands.

"John!..." Bobby grabbed his shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "John…snap out of it! Are you with me Winchester? cos I'm serious… y'get me killed an I'm comin back to haunt your ass!"

John looked up, glancing one more time at his son, before nodding his agreement.

"C'mon…let's do this."


	27. Part XXV

Part 25

Crowley circled the flaming oil, hands shoved in to his pockets. He looked down at the ground, shuffling the dirt with his feet as he moved.

"This is fun!" he said, with a grin that didn't touch his eyes. "But I'm bored. Now…you know what I want, so I suggest you hand it over."

He stopped next to Dean, and looked unblinkingly at the angel trapped within the circle in front of him, his expression turning more sinister as he was greeted with a cunning smirk.

"Something funny?" he asked dryly.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders, and narrowed his eyes at the demon.

"That depends on your definition I guess." He remarked.

Crowley glared through the flames. His patience really was starting to wear thin, and the urge to snatch up the blade and plunge it in to the angels heart himself was becoming quite overpowering.

"I'll ignore that." He said "I've made this quite simple Castiel, and I have no problem delivering"

He outstretched his hand, fingertips brushing against the flames, "Now, what's it to be?"

Castiel looked away for a moment, and his façade began to melt away when he caught the quizzing look in Dean's eyes.

After a few seconds of exchanged silence, he reached in to the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out an old piece of parchment.

Crowley's eyes glistened and he waved his fingers impatiently as the angel held up the manuscript.

"This…is in exchange for _them_" He said turning his head sharply towards Dean, but eyes transfixed on the demon.

"Yeah yeah…yada yada yada…I already said didn't I?...now gimme!" Crowley replied irritably.

Castiel reached out and tossed the parchment to the floor beyond the fire, and in an instant scramble, it was in the demon's hands.

He hummed to himself as he unfolded the parchment, which to Dean looked so ancient it was in danger of crumbling under the slightest touch.

Crowley grinned, and without even glancing up, thrust his hand in to the inside pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a long, pale, sword-like blade.

_The angel blade. _

Dean looked on despairingly, turning away to hide his pain from the demon as he tossed the blade to the ground next to him, where it landed in the dirt with a thud.

"_Kill him." _

…..

Jimmying open the bars of the cell wasn't a problem, neither was ensuring that the cell was sufficiently salted. They had moved the small cot where Sam remained still scrunched up in a ball, to the centre, so that he was well out of harm's way, and John had laid his thick ranch coat across him to keep off some of the chill from the broken window.

They had slipped along the damp, rotting hall way, and found themselves peering through a crack in the door at the problem.

Demons. Atleast 50 of them.

"sons of bitches!" Bobby hissed, shuffling to get a better look at the layout of the warehouse. His eyes travelled up towards the ceiling.

"if we can get to that stairwell…we can set off the system from there but…"

"But what?" asked John

"are you not seein' the same things I'm seein' Winchester…about 50 or so of 'em?"

"Well what's the alternative? There's no other way in without being seen…and we're running out of time."

Bobby sighed and after a moment or two of silence, the two men slowly exchanged knowing glances.

"Ambush?" Bobby asked.

"_Ambush."_ John replied affirmatively.

The two men dumped their packs and gathered supplies, hands shaking with adrenaline.

"it's gotta be fast…faster than that." Bobby instructed. "you get to the system…you're quicker than I am. I'll try to hold 'em off…agreed?"

John nodded, and the two men stood ready, waiting on a count of three…

…

Dean stared dejectedly at the ground, and tears that now flowed freely dripped into the dirt. He remained on his knees in front of the flames, until a rough hand gripped the collar of his jacket, forcing him forwards.

"_Do it" _ came the angry voice, rumbling in his ear, the smell of blood assaulting him.

He took in a sharp breath and his hand fumbled amidst the dust for the blade, which he recoiled from at first, then slowly gripped in a tight fist.

He rose to his feet, and his tear filled eyes slowly pulled focus on his friend.

He opened his mouth to speak and for a moment nothing came out. He shook his head hopelessly,

"I..I'm so sorry Cas…I have to do this…he's my little brother, he can't take it. I have to save him. I know I don't deserve it but please, please forgive me?"

Castiel smiled at him.

"It's okay Dean. Anyway…_Tuesday's_, a good day to die…and I only have to do it once."

And with an oddly familiar flicker of his eyebrows, he repeated,

"It will be okay."

And with that, Dean raised the blade in his hand…

….

If they had opened the door too slowly, they would have risked being spotted. Open it quickly, and make a run for it, was the course of action they had decided upon. In any case, both men were avid hunters, and sometimes a full on adrenaline rush was just a perk of the job.

So that's what they did.

They were spotted instantly, and John temporarily took out three soldiers just getting to the foot of the stairwell by pumping them full of salt shells.

Bobby followed not too far behind, shotgun cocked and ready. He fired twice at some advancing BEDs, and after that most looked a little less eager to make a move. Some tried to flea, squealing and gasping with anger when they realised they had been trapped.

Shotgun raised, Bobby glanced up at the stairwell and saw that John was at his target.

He began to recite it Latin.

John raised the blowtorch in the direction of the sprinkler, and squeezed.

There was a _clink, _and at once, a fierce sprinkling of crystal water gushed out from above, soaking him. The other systems dotted throughout the warehouse followed. In an instance the room filled with agonised high pitched screams, as the holy water scorched and burned through the skin of now close to a hundred meat suits.

Bobby's words powered through the muffled cries, and gushing water.

"…Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae…te rogamus, audi nos…"

One by one, the demons threw back their heads, and swirling black pools of smoke began to erupt from their gaping, growling mouths. Some were more willing than others, and some tried to hold on, choking and convulsing, trying to keep hold of their pray. But the exorcism was powerful, and dragged the infestations reluctantly from their victim's bodies.

The expelled entities circled the warehouse angrily, high pitched screams and otherworldly growls grew louder and more vicious as the exorcism continued.

The second part of the ritual would drive the bastards back down in to the pit, and Bobby was knocked sideways and off his feet a number of times in their attempts to stop him. Each time, he continued, until his final words seemed to gather the entities in to one enormous black twister spiralling downwards as the ground seemingly swallowed it up. As the screaming stopped, Bobby fell back breathlessly against the wall, watching as the last of the smoke disappeared.

…


End file.
